wmmimM 


m 


■■■'■•>■'■ 

WHS 


SMH 


Wm$ 


:"i 


S  BiSEI 


Four 

American 
Universities 


SfelsiNfflW 


«K 


Wit 


Ktwirc 


P 


'';■    I;,','.. -^l.j'i,, '!■..' 


wsJffimwaMsS. 


S 


si 


» 


Epjj  |S 


Sfflfci 


8WSm$S 


AM  PRES  LA225 

.F68  1895 

Four  American 

universities . 

Harvard,  Yale, 

Princeton, 

Columbia. 

Tf 


HARVARD 

mmi     

•  YALE  • 


PRINCETON 

^U*  lllllll  Ms. 


C    COLUMBIA    J 


ILLV5TRATED 


1895 


Copyright,  1895,  by   HaKPKR  k  Bkotheks. 
All  right*  reserved. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

HARVARD 1 

BY    CHARLES    ELIOT    NORTON 

YALE 45 

BY    ARTHUR   T.    HADLEY 

PRINCETON 93 

BY    WILLIAM    M.    Sl.ll  INE 

COLUMBIA ,       .      157 

BY    BRANDER    MATTHEWS 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

CLASS  DAT Frontispiece 

HARVARD    SEAL 2 

MEMORIAL    HALL 5 

PRESIDENT    CHARLES    W.  ELIOT 9 

VIEW  OF   COLLEGE    IN    1739 11 

THE    COLLEGE    YARD 13 

SEVER   HALL 17 

HARVARD    GYMNASIUM 19 

CLAVEP.LEY    HALL,    CAMBRIDGE 23 

STUDENT'S    ROOM    IN    CLAVERLKY    HALL,  CAMBRIDGE ....  25 

HARVARD    BOAT-HOUSE    ON    THE    CHARLES    RIVER 27 

GORE    HALL 29 

MUSEUM   OF   COMPARATIVE    ZOOLOGY 31 

GROVES    OF    ACADEME 33 

THE    WASHINGTON    ELM 37 

AUSTIN    HALL 39 

A    STREET    IN    CAMBRIDGE 41 

YALE    SEAL 4lj 

PRESIDENT   TIMOTHY   DWIGHT 49 

YALE   COLLEGE,  1793 51 

VANDERBILT    DORMITORIES 53 

THE    CHAPEL,  FARNAM    HALL,   AND    DURFEE    HALL 57 

REAR    OF   THE    CHAPEL CI 

YALE    RECITATION    HALI 65 

GYMNASIUM EXTERIOR 69 

GYMNASIUM — INTERIOR 7:'. 

THE    OLD   FENCE 75 

"SKULL    AND    BONES"    HALL 76 

NEW    LIBRARY 77 

SOUTH    MIDDLE 81 

STATUE    OF    ABRAHAM    PIERSON         ...               85 


viii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

observatory 88 

"scroll  and  key"  hall 89 

princeton  seal 94 

president  francis  l.  patton 97 


JAMES    McCOSH,  D.D.,  LL.D 

NASSAU    HALL        

THE    LIBRARY 

THE  HALSTED  OBSERVATORY  .... 
MARQUAND  CHAPEL  AND  MURRAY  HALL 
THE    PRESIDENT'S    HOrSE 


99 

101 

103 

107 

109 

113 

ENTRANCE    TO   THE    PRESIDENT'S    GROUNDS 115 

THE    ART   MUSEUM 119 

ALEXANDER   HALL 124 

SCHOOL    OF    SCIENCE 127 

PRINCETON    SEMINARY    BUILDING  .       .               131 

WHIG    HALL 1^3 

TMK    GYMNASIUM 137 

UNIVERSITY    HALL 143 

WITHERSPOON    HALL 147 

BROKAW    MEMORIAL    BUILDING 151 

COLUMBIA    SEAL 158 

PRESIDENT    SETH    LOW 161 

KING'S    COLLEGE 163 

COLUMBIA     COLLEGE 165 

COPPER    CROWN    ON    CUPOLA 166 

HAMILTON    HALL 167 

A    BIT    OF   THE    OLD    AND   THE    NEW 169 

STAIRWAY    LEADING    TO    LIBRARY 173 

EX-PRESIDENT    FREDERICK  A.   P.   BARNARD 177 

SILVER    MEDAL    OF    KING'S    COLLEGE — OBVERSE 180 

SILVER   MEDAL    OF   KING'S    COLLEGE — REVERSE 181 

INTERIOR   OF   THE    LIBRARY 185 

GENERAL     PLAN     OF     THE     GROUNDS     AND     BUILDINGS     OF     THE     NEW     COLUMBIA 

COLLEGE 191 

PROPOSED    DESIGN    FOR    THE     NEW     LIBRARY     BUILDING  —  VIEW     OF     EAST     END 

TOWARDS    AMSTERDAM    AVENUE 195 

PROPOSED    DESIGN    FOR    THE     NEW    LIBRARY     BUILDING — VIEW    OF    THE    FRONT 

FACING    ONE    HUNDRED    AND    SIXTEENTH    STREET 199 

FOLDING    PLATES: — 

harvard  university Facing  page     16 

YALE    UNIVERSITY "          "  48 

PRINCETON    UNIVERSITY "          "  96 

COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY "         "  160 


HARVARD    UNIVERSITY 


j)EOM  whatever  side  one  approaches  Cambridge, 
the  tower  of  the  Harvard  Memorial  Hall  is 
conspicuous.  It  is  an  appropriate  emblem  of 
the  university.  It  is  the  monument  of  gen- 
erous youth  trained  to  the  performance  of  duty,  and 
prompt  to  offer  life  a  willing  sacrifice  to  the  public  good. 
No  other  building  in  the  United  States  is  consecrated  by 
more  tender  and  noble  personal  and  patriotic  associations 
— associations  which,  connecting  the  life  of  the  university 
with  the  life  of  the  nation,  and  indicating  the  intimate 
relation  between  ideal  studies  and  unselfish  character, 
afford  a  perennial  inspiration  to  high  conduct.  The  walls 
of  the  central  hall  are  lined  with  inscriptions  that  cele- 
brate lofty  virtues,  and  with  tablets  on  which  are  recorded 
the  names  of  those  sons  of  Harvard  who  died  for  their 
country  in  the  war  for  national  regeneration.  Through  this 
hall  every  day  a  majority  of  the  undergraduate  students 
pass  and  repass  to  and  from  the  great  adjoining  dining- 
hall,  whose  windows  are  filled  with  the  images  of  the 
scholars  and  poets  and  heroes  of  past  times,  and  whose 
walls  are  adorned  with  the  portraits  of  the  worthies  of  the 
university  who  have  served  the  cause  of  learning  or  of  the 
state.  He  must  be  of  a  dull  spirit  who  is  not  moved  by 
the  silent  and  familiar  presence  of  such  incentives  to  ex- 


4  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

cellence,  and  who  at  times  does  not  feel  his  heart  glow  and 
quicken  with  the  thought  that,  as  a  member  of  the  uni- 
versity, he  is  an  associate  with  men  in  whose  characters  and 
lives  the  worth  of  its  teachings  and  influence  has  been  ex- 
pressed, and  that  he  is  surrounded  by  a  cloud  of  witnesses 
who  claim  of  him  that  he  show  himself  worthy  to  belong  to 
their  company. 

The  chief  and  oldest  seat  of  learning  in  New  England,  the 
local  foundations  of  Harvard  College  were  solidly  laid,  and 
its  superstructure  framed  in  accord  with  those  fundamental 
principles  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts  which 
have  so  largely  contributed  to  the  shaping  of  the  character 
of  the  United  States.  Its  beginning  was  in  1630,  and  in 
1050  a  charter  was  granted  by  the  General  Court,  under 
the  seal  of  the  Colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  establishing 
Harvard  College  as  a  corporation  "  for  the  advancement  of 
all  good  literature,  arts,  and  scieuces,"  and  this  charter,  with 
an  appendix  passed  in  1057,  is  now  in  force  precisely  as 
first  drafted,  "the  venerable  source  of  collegiate  authority" 
at  the  present  day.  But  in  the  course  of  centuries  the 
College  has  developed  into  an  institution  in  many  respects 
different  from  that  contemplated  by  its  founders.  It  is  a 
novel  growth  of  time,  largely  a  product  of  ideas  and  con- 
ditions peculiar  to  America. 

Obvious  as  it  is  that  the  successful  working  of  a  de- 
mocracy is  dependent  on  popular  education,  it  is  no  less 
plain  that  the  quality  and  sufficiency  of  that  education  are 
dependent  upon  the  superior  institutions  of  learning.  Thev 
are  the  head-waters  of  the  stream  of  education  by  which 
the  general  intellectual  and  moral  life  of  the  community  is 
in  large  measure  supplied  and  sustained,  and  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  they  consequently  possess  an  importance 


MEMORIAL    HALL 


beyond  that  of  any  other  of  our  institutions.  But  the 
influence  of  most  of  them  is  hampered  by  narrow  means, 
local  limitations,  or  sectarian  restrictions.  The  services 
which  the  numerous  smaller  colleges  perform  in  their  re- 
spective localities  are  great,  but  it  is  impossible  for  them  to 
offer  to  their  students  the  advantages  of  a  truly  liberal 
education. 

In  order  to  provide  such  an  education,  the  term  liberal 
must  apply  in  the  fullest  sense  to  the  institution  itself.  It 
must  be  free  from  every  bond  of  party  or  sect,  and  so  pos- 
sessed with  the  spirit  of  freedom  of  thought  that  its  teach- 
ers may  enjoy  entire  liberty  of  inquiry  and  of  instruction; 
it  must  afford  liberty  of  choice  of  study  to  its  pupils,  and 
it  must  be  open  upon  equal  terms  to  all  students  of  what- 
ever race  or  social  position.  It  must  afford  such  assistance 
l* 


0  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

to  poor  students  of  good  character  and  capacity  as  may 
enable  them  to  secure  a  full  proportionate  share  of  the 
opportunities  it  offers.  And  it  must  be  so  amply  endowed 
as  to  maintain  varied,  disinterested,  and  able  instruction  in 
all  the  more  important  branches  of  knowledge.  Moreover, 
its  life  must  be  recognized  as  an  integral  part  of  the  life  of 
the  state,  and  it  must  have  proved  the  worth  and  power  of 
its  discipline  by  the  character  of  those  whom  it  has  nurt- 
ured, and  by  the  services  which  they  have  rendered  to  the 
community. 

The  influence  and  authority  which  a  great  institution  of 
learning  derives  from  age  is  hardly  to  be  overestimated. 
The  mere  increase  in  the  sum  of  the  associations  that  at- 
tach themselves  to  it  strengthens  the  force  of  its  appeal 
to  the  imagination,  on  which  the  increase  of  its  resources 
largely  depends.  "Many  well-devoted  persons,"  says  the 
Harvard  charter  of  1650,  "  have  been  and  daily  are  moved 
and  stirred  up  to  give  and  bestow  sundry  gifts,  legacies, 
lands,  and  revenues  for  the  advancement  of  all  good  liter- 
ature, arts,  and  sciences."  The  stream  of  such  bounty 
widens  as  it  flows.  With  the  natural  growth  of  the  com- 
munity, the  number  of  students  increases.  But  though 
this  be  true,  and  though  the  growth  of  Harvard  has  been 
more  rapid  of  late  than  ever  before,  it  is  not  yet  as  great 
as  it  ought  to  be  in  comparison  with  the  growth  in  num- 
bers, in  wealth,  and  in  power  of  the  nation.  The  main 
reasons  of  this  fact  are  to  be  found  in  the  general  condi- 
tions of  American  society  during  the  past  twenty  years, 
rather  than  in  the  special  conditions  of  the  university. 
The  fact,  therefore,  is  not  an  exceptional  one;  it  is  true 
of  all  the  leading  institutions  of  pure  learning  in  the 
United  States,  true  of  the  whole  system  of  the  higher  edu- 


HARVARD   VM1VERBITT  7 

cation,  and  it  is  of  greater  import  to  the  nation  at  large 
than  to  the  individual  institutions  themselves.*  Among 
the  obvious  minor  causes  of  the  comparatively  slow  growth 
of  the  older  colleges  must  be  reckoned  the  establishment 
of  a  great  number  of  local  institutions  more  or  less  fitted 
to  supply  the  demand  for  learning  in  the  regions  where 
they  have  been  founded,  and  thus  tending  to  diminish  the 
resort  of  youth  to  the  older  and  better  equipped,  but  more 
distant  and  exacting  institutions.  The  founding  of  many 
of  these  colleges  is  a  natural  result  of  the  material  and 
intellectual  conditions  of  the  community,  and  may,  perhaps, 
be  generally  serviceable  to  the  cause  of  education.  It  is 
only  to  be  regretted  when,  as  in  such  a  case  as  the  recent 
establishment  of  Clark  University  at  Worcester,  means  are 
employed  for  the  foundation  of  a  new  institution  which 
could  more  wisely  have  been  used  to  strengthen  and  en- 
large the  old.  For,  however  serviceable  such  a  new  institu- 
tion may  become,  the  fact  is  not  to  be  overlooked  that  its 
establishment  involves  a  dissipation  of  wealth  and  of  en- 
ergy. Whatever  is  generous  in  the  object  of  the  founders 
would  be  far  more  effectively  promoted  if  the  means  re- 
quired for  the  foundation  and  carrying  on  of  the  new  in- 
stitution were  concentrated  and  applied  in  an  already  exist- 
ing school  of  learning.  The  lamentable  waste  involved  in 
the  needless  duplication  of  the   instruments    of   study,  of 

*  In  I860  the  percentage  of  college  students  to  the  total  population  of  the 
United  States  appears  from  the  returns  of  the  Census  and  the  reports  of  the 
United  States  Commissioner  of  Education  to  have  been  .00174;  after  this  time 
there  was  a  decline  to  as  low  as  .00106  in  1887.  Since  then  there  has  been  a  re- 
covery, and  in  1892  the  percentage  had  risen  to  .00175.  But  this  is  a  miserable 
showing.  I  take  these  figures  from  an  interesting  paper  on  "  The  Decline  and 
Revival  of  Public  Interest  in  College  Education,"  by  Mr.  Merritc  Starr.  Chicago, 
1893. 


8  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

buildings,  libraries,  and  laboratories,  would  at  least  be 
avoided.  But  more  than  this,  and  of  more  essential  im- 
portance, no  new  school  of  learning  in  a  region  where  an 
old  and  vigorous  one  already  exists  can  share  in  those  tra- 
ditions and  associations  of  inestimable  value  in  education — 
stimulating,  elevating,  and  refining — which  inhere  in  an 
institution  that  has  long  been  one  of  the  chief  sources  of 
the  higher  intellectual  and  moral  life  of  the  community, 
and  in  the  support  of  which  the  affections  of  many  suc- 
cessive generations  have  been  engaged.  These  are  things 
that  neither  money  nor  mere  good-will  can  supply. 

Competition  among  institutions  of  learning  is  of  no  less 
importance  than  in  other  fields  of  activity  for  the  mainten- 
ance of  a  high  standard  of  accomplishment,  but  here,  no 
less  than  elsewhere,  competition  may  be  pushed  too  far,  and 
to  the  injury  of  all  the  competing  parties.  In  the  case  of 
these  institutions  the  danger  is  not  greater  that  through 
excessive  competition  the  supply  of  pupils  may  be  so  divided 
as  to  be  insufficient  in  any  one  among  them  for  its  healthy 
life,  than  that  the  supply  of  competent  teachers  may  be 
insufficient  to  meet  the  demand  for  a  strong  body  of  in- 
structors. 

But  while  the  multiplication  of  colleges  and  so-called 
universities  has  of  late  done  something  to  check  the  normal 
growth  of  the  older  schools  of  learning,  a  much  more  es- 
sential and  important  cause  of  the  comparative  slowness  in 
the  increase  of  their  students  is  to  be  found  in  the  general 
tendency  of  our  recent  civilization  to  concentrate  interest 
upon  material  aims,  and  to  turn  the  most  active  and  ener- 
getic intelligence  of  the  community  to  the  pursuit,  not  of 
knowledge  and  wisdom,  but  of  wealth,  and  to  the  attain- 
ment of  what  are  esteemed  to  be  practical,  in  distinction 


HARVARD   rxiVERSlTY  f) 

from  the  ideal,  objects  of  life.  This  tendency  is  no  less 
obvious  in  the  Old  World  than  in  the  New.  It  is  the  most 
marked  characteristic  of  our  age.  It  must  be  reckoned  with 
in  all  our  considerations  of  the  state  of  modern  society,  in 
our  political  speculations,  and  in  our  estimates  of  the  worth 
of  life  in  our  own  times.     It  may  be  deplored  by  those  who 


PKKSIDKNT    CHARLES    W.   ELIOT 


cherish  the  high  opportunities  of  human  existence,  but  it 
must  be  accepted  as  the  inevitable  and  irresistible  drift  of 
the  age,  and  those  who  hold  life  as  meaning  more  than 
bread  must  set  themselves,  not  to  the  vain  work  of  stem- 
ming the  current,  but  of  so  directing  its  force  that  in  the 
long-run  it  may  be  rendered  beneficial  to  those  objects  for 


10  FOUM   AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

which  the  best  men  in  all  times  have  striven.  It  is  vain 
to  keep  back  the  inundation  of  the  Nile,  but  some  of  the 
superabundant  waters  may  be  so  turned  as  to  fertilize  the 
sands,  and  to  change  the  flood  from  an  instrument  of  ruin 
to  a  means  of  welfare.  Egypt,  said  Herodotus,  is  the  gift 
of  the  Nile. 

One  of  the  results  of  the  rapid  and  brilliant  development 
of  the  material  resources  of  the  world,  and  of  the  natural 
desire  which  it  has  stimulated  in  all  classes  to  secure  a  share 
in  the  growing  wealth,  has  been  the  increased  eagerness  of 
youth  to  enter  at  an  early  age  upon  the  pursuits,  profes- 
sional or  other,  which  lead  directly  to  the  obtaining  of  a 
livelihood  and  the  acquisition  of  money.  The  time  spent 
in  acquiring  general  culture  and  mental  resources  that  have 
no  immediate  relation  to  getting  on  in  the  world  seems  as 
if  wasted  to  those  whose  desires  are  set  upon  speedy  ad- 
vancement in  the  career  of  fortune,  and  they  turn  from  the 
college  or  university  to  the  professional  school  or  the  busi- 
ness office.  This  disposition  has  been  confirmed  by  the 
correspondingly  rapid  development  of  science  and  of 
scientific  methods  of  instruction  during  the  past  half-cen- 
tury, which  has  led  to  a  higher  standard  of  purely  pro- 
fessional training,  and  to  the  consequent  necessity  for  a 
longer  period  of  preliminary  professional  study  than  was 
formerly  requisite.  The  term  of  study  in  the  professional 
schools  now  needed  to  equip  the  student  for  his  work  is 
longer  bv  one  year  at  least,  ofteii  by  two  years,  than  was 
deemed  necessary  thirty  years  ago.  A  steady  pressure  is 
exerted  for  the  lessening  of  the  term  of  general  education 
in  order  to  secure  more  time  for  special  training,  and  many 
a  young  man,  in  haste  to  enter  his  profession,  gives  up 
altogether  the  undergraduate  course  of  stud  v.     Undoubted- 


HARVARD    UNIVERSITY 


11 


ly,  as  regards  not  only  the  individual  but  also  the  general 
intellectual  life  of  the  community,  this  is  to  be  regretted. 
The  difficulty  is  augmented  by  the  fact  that  the  standard 
for  entrance  to  the  undergraduate  department  of  our  uni- 
versities has  during  the  same  period  been  considerably 
raised,  with  the  effect  of  increasing  the  average  age  of  the 
undergraduate  students  by  one  or  two  years.  The  read- 
justment of  the  proportions  of  time  given  to  general  culture 
and  to  special  training,  and  the  best  distribution  between 
them  of  the  period  allotted  to  education,  is  one  of  the  most 
serious  problems  for  those  now  engaged  in  the  conduct  of 
our  universities.  The  lead  in  raising  the  standard  of  our 
professional  schools,  as  well  as  of  the  undergraduate  depart- 
ment, has  throughout  been  taken  by  Harvard. 


'J tD^xtjfmc  (gt/kfy&.m)1(^am4ri^jfr.jfew-  Q/wfawt 


View  of  College  in  1759 


12  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

But  while  the  universities  must  respond,  if  they  ;ire  to 
perforin  their  great  public  function  aright,  to  the  demands 
of  the  community,  they  are  also  required  to  recognize  its 
needs,  and  more  especially  those  which  must  be  supplied 
if  its  higher  life  is  to  be  duly  maintained.  They  must  guide 
and  lead,  not  merely  follow  the  general  direction  of  the 
national  progress.  Their  proper  work  is  not  only  one  of 
teaching,  but  of  inspiration  as  well.  It  is  for  them  to 
enforce  the  conviction  upon  their  students,  and  through 
them  upon  the  community,  that  mere  material  prosperity 
affords  no  solid  basis  for  the  permanent  welfare  of  a  nation. 
The  very  continuance  of  this  prosperity  depends  on  the 
intelligence  and  character  of  the  people,  and  thus  the  insti- 
tutions that  are  devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  the  intelli- 
gence and  of  the  moral  faculties  are,  even  from  a  material 
and  selfish  point  of  view,  the  most  important  institutions  of 
the  country,  and  those  which  have  the  highest  claim  on  the 
support  of  all  who  are  engaged  in  the  acquisition  of  wealth, 
no  less  than  of  those  who  cherish  high  ideals  of  national  char- 
acter, who  believe  in  the  supremacy  of  spiritual  achieve- 
ment, and  who  know  that  "  wisdom  exalteth  them  to  honor 
that  hold  her  fast." 

But  although  the  resort  of  youth  to  the  higher  institu- 
tions of  learning  is  by  no  means  what  it  ought  to  be,  com- 
pared with  the  growth  in  wealth  and  the  increase  in  popu- 
lation of  the  country,  nor  what  is  needed  for  the  protection 
of  its  material  interests,  and  for  the  improvement  of  its 
civilization,  yet  the  number  of  young  men  who  yearly  fre- 
quent them  is  not  inconsiderable.  In  the  present  year,  1894, 
there  are  3160*  enrolled  at  Harvard,  of  whom  1656  are  in 

*  This  number  does  not  include  the  346  students  enrolled  in  the  Summer 
( 'nurses,  most  of  whom  are  not  candidates  for  a  degree. 


HARVARD    UNIVERSITY  15 

the   undergraduate  department.     They  come  from  forty 
States  and  Territories  of  the  Union,  and  a  few  from  foreign 
countries.      They  represent  every  grade  of  society,  every 
variety  of  creed — Orthodox,  Liberal,  Koman  Catholic,  Ag- 
nostic, Jew ,   every  shade  of  political   opinion ;    and    they 
meet  and  mingle  on  terms  of  even  more  complete  equality 
than  those  which  commonly  exist  in  society.     There  is  no 
community  in  which  artificial  distinctions  have  less  influ- 
ence, and  probably  there  is  no  one  of  the  larger  colleges  of 
the  land  in  which  simple  collegiate  divisions,  such  as  those 
of  the  annual  classes  and  of  college  societies,  have  less  ef- 
fect in  creating  distinctions  in  the  ranks  of  the  students. 
Student  life  at  Harvard  is  essentially  and  healthily  demo- 
cratic.    In  all  departments,  alike  of  study  or  of  sport,  there 
are  no  marked  distinctions  except  the  natural  ones  of  char- 
acter  and   capacity.      The   rich    student    undoubtedly  has 
some  advantages  over  the  poor,  but  they  are  for  the  most 
part  either  strictly  personal,  as  in  the  ability  to  spend  more 
for  amusement  and  in  the  gratification  of  special  tastes,  or 
they  enable  him  to  belong  to  the  more  expensive  and  ex- 
clusive, but  otherwise  in  general  less  desirable  clubs.     If  he 
be  an  attractive  fellow  in  bearing  and  manners,  they  assist 
him  in  gaining  a  more  or  less  factitious  popularity.     But 
the  disadvantages  of  narrow  means  are  less  obvious  and  less 
felt  at  Harvard  than  in  society  at  large,  and  a  youth  of 
independent  and  reasonable  character  need   never   suffer 
from  any  hurt  to  his  feelings  because  of  his  poverty.     Of 
course,  in  college,  as  in  the  world,  there  are  heart-burnings 
produced  by  the  differences  in  wealth  and  social  position, 
but,  on  the  whole,  the  relations  of  the  students  with  each 
other  are  simple,  manly,  and  determined  by  character  and 
manners  rather  than  by  any  other  considerations. 


16  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

The  evil  influence  of  wealth  is  more  felt  here,  as  in  other 
universities,  in  another  way.  Many  parents  who  have  ac- 
quired riches  rapidly,  and  are  desirous  of  obtaining  social 
position  and  consideration  for  their  sons,  send  them  to 
college  for  this  end  quite  as  much  as  with  an  aim  to  a 
solid  education,  and  supply  them  with  incomes  far  beyond 
their  legitimate  needs.  These  youths  form  a  small  and 
unfortunate  section  of  the  college  community,  exposed  to 
extraordinary  temptation,  and  often  unfitted  by  domestic 
training  to  resist  it.  They  naturally  fall  into  extravagant 
expenditure  that  leads  to  self-indulgence,  waste  of  time, 
neglect  of  opportunity,  and  in  some  cases  to  immoral  hab- 
its. They  set  a  bad  example  which  is  not  without  effect. 
They  raise  the  standard  of  expense  even  for  those  who  are 
supplied  with  but  a  moderate  and  appropriate  income.  In 
the  courses  of  study  which  they  nominally  pursue  they  are 
a  hinderance  to  the  progress  of  the  industrious  members 
of  the  class.  They  contribute  little  or  nothing  to  the  wel- 
fare of  the  college.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  they  them- 
selves not  infrequently  derive  distinct  benefit  from  their 
college  experience.  They  could  probably  find  nowhere  else 
so  little  false  regard  for  wealth  ;  they  are  for  the  time 
members  of  a  community  in  which  other  distinctions  have 
a  legitimate  superiority ;  they  are  made  aware  of  the  ex- 
istence of  higher  ideals  than  those  which  riches  constitute 
or  enable  their  owner  to  attain  ;  they  are  subjected  to  a 
discipline  which  the  outer  world  of  society  does  not  afford ; 
the  existence  and  the  power  of  things  of  the  intelligence 
are  forced  upon  their  attention,  and  it  not  infrequently 
happens  that  some  intellectual  interest  is  awakened  in 
their  minds,  and  they  leave  college  with  some  mental 
resources  and  some  respect  for  the  nobler  use  and  ends  of 


Sever  Hall. 


Library. 


-4^S 


s^v^ 


Boylaton  Hall. 


President's  House. 


PnklBI  Hull       C.iiii,!  Hill 


OldOymnuinm 


H  Mil  II  ill. 


VV.>,l...n,Ll,  HOOI 


BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  <  >|    ll  \K\  \i:i.  UNIVERSITY 


SEVER  HALL 


life,  which,  without  a  college  course,  they  might  never  have 
gained. 

One  fact  of  much  importance  which  has  been  very  no- 
ticeable in  recent  years  is  the  marked  improvement  in  the 
general  spirit  and  temper  of  the  undergraduate  body.  This 
seems  mainly  due  to  three  causes — the  raising  of  the  aver- 
age age  of  the  students ;  the  establishment  of  the  elective 
system,  which  requires  each  of  them  to  select  and  deter- 
mine his  course  of  study ;  and,  above  all,  to  the  policy 
introduced  and  now  firmly  established  at  Harvard  of  treat- 
ing the  students  as  capable  of  self-government  and  respon- 
sible for  their  own  conduct.     Nowhere  else  is  the  student 

more  independent  and  more  trusted  than  at  Harvard.     He 
2 


18  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

is  treated  not  as  a  child  but  as  a  man,  and  the  good  results 
which  have  followed  from  this  policy  are  obvious  in  the 
improved  order,  the  increased  industry,  and  the  readier 
submission  to  authority  that  prevail  throughout  the  uni- 
versity. Among  fifteen  hundred  youths,  most  of  them 
just  released  from  the  strict  discipline  of  school,  or  the  im- 
mediate control  of  their  parents,  there  will,  of  course,  be 
some  incapable  of  meeting  the  responsibility  of  indepen- 
dence, and  of  making  good  use  of  its  opportunities.  There 
are  some  men  who  never  outgrow  a  childish  habit  of  mind. 
But,  as  a  whole,  with  few  exceptions,  the  students  show 
themselves  worthy  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  them. 
Even  those  who  enter  college  children  in  disposition  soon 
learn  the  folly  of  prolonged  childishness,  and  acquire  a 
manlier  temper.  The  test  to  which  the  students  are  sub- 
jected by  becoming  at  once  masters  of  their  own  lives  is 
a  severe  one.  Some  fail  under  it ;  but  its  effect  in  develop- 
ing moral  character,  through  the  sense  of  personal  respon- 
sibility, is  unquestionably  beneficial  to  a  great  majority. 
Harvard  College  is  not  the  place  for  a  youth  of  weak  will, 
or  of  convictions  in  regard  to  right  and  wrong  that  rest  on 
artificial  snppoits.  Parents  who  wish  their  sons  to  be  con- 
strained to  virtue  by  external  observances  and  formal  pen- 
alties should  not  send  them  hither.  It  is  indeed  true  that 
the  domestic  training  and  the  school  education  of  the  act- 
ual generation  of  American  children  are  often  lamenta- 
bly  wanting  in  respect  to  the  simplest  elements  of  sound 
character,  and  many  parents  look  to  the  college  to  make 
good  defects  due  to  their  own  inefficiency  or  neglect. 
But  this  is  a  charge  which  the  college  cannot  undertake 
by  direct  means.  It  must  assume  that  the  youth  of  eighteen 
or  nineteen  years  old  who  enters  its  gates  no  longer  needs 


HARVARD   UNIVERSITY  21 

to  be  treated  as  an  infant.  Usually  this  assumption  is 
correct.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  better-behaved  and 
better-mannered  body  of  fifteen  hundred  young  men  than 
the  students  at  Cambridge.  Offences  against  good  order 
in  college  are  rare ;  against  good  civic  order  still  rarer. 
The  high  spirits  incident  to  youth  occasionally  manifest 
themselves  in  exuberant  display  and  in  reckless  conduct, 
but  lively  animal  spirits  are  not  characteristic  of  the  Amer- 
ican temperament,  and  there  is  too  little  rather  than  too 
much  of  genuine  gayety  and  jollity  in  college  life.  Har- 
vard students  have  outgrown  some  of  the  childish  follies, 
the  display  of  which  was  not  long  ago  asserted  as  a  cher- 
ished right,  but  they  still  hold  with  silly  persistence  to  a 
few  survivals  of  customs  inconsistent  with  the  prevalent 
spirit  of  good  feeling  and  good  sense.  The  initiations  into 
certain  societies  still  exhibit  something  of  stupid  folly,  and 
occasionally  of  brutal  inconsiderateness ;  but  they  do  not 
belong  properly  with  the  present  order  of  things,  and  their 
suppression  may  be  looked  for  before  long  as  a  result  of  the 
common-sense  and  right  feeling  of  the  students  themselves. 
The  intention  to  behave  like  gentlemen  is  strong  among 
them,  and  the  spirit  of  gentlemanliness  is,  perhaps,  as  vig- 
orous among  them  and  as  widely  diffused  as  in  society  at 
large.  The  sense  of  honor  is  apt  to  be  blunt  outside  as 
well  as  inside  college  walls,  and  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that 
students  should  have  a  keener  perception  of  the  fine  and 
incessant  requirements  of  personal  honor  than  that  which 
prevails  in  the  world  from  which  they  come. 

The  dependence  of  health  and  vigor  of  mind  upon  health 
and  vigor  of  body  is  now  the  fundamental  proposition  in 
every  rational  scheme  of  education.  The  provision  made  at 
Harvard  for  the  exercise  required  for  health  and  for  normal 

2* 


22  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

physical  development  is  probably  as  thorough,  complete,  and 
intelligent  as  can  be  found  in  any  institution  of  learning. 
It  marks  a  new  stage  in  the  improvement  of  the  university 
as  a  place  of  education,  and  there  is  nothing  in  which  the 
life  of  the  student  of  today  differs  more  widely  from  that 
of  preceding  generations  of  American  undergraduates  than 
in  the  attention  given  to  the  care  of  the  body,  in  the  large 
share  which  athletic  sports  hold  among  college  interests, 
and  in  the  strong  feeling  aroused  by  athletic  competitions. 

College  games  and  athletic  sports  properly  regarded  are 
at  once  promotive  of  the  intellectual  interests  of  the  stu- 
dents and  subordinate  to  them.  They  are  the  sports  of 
gentlemen  who  do  not  aim  at  professional  excellence  as  oars- 
men or  players  of  any  game.  The  exact  limit  between  pro- 
fessional and  amateur  excellence  in  them  is  not  easily  de- 
fined ;  but  the  difference  in  spirit  animating  professional  and 
amateur  sport  is  obvious.  The  interest  and  the  worth  of 
sport  as  part  of  college  discipline  and  amusement  are  les- 
sened and  its  character  is  degraded  in  proportion  as  the  par- 
ticipants in  it  strive  for  excellence  other  than  that  which 
may  be  attained  by  a  youth  who  does  not  allow  it  to  be- 
come the  chief  object  of  his  efforts,  but  who  holds  it  in  its 
right  place  as  a  pleasant  and  animating  recreation  and  a 
manly  accomplishment.  Fair  play,  honor  to  opponents, 
cheerful  acceptance  of  defeat,  modest  acceptance  of  victory, 
are  conditions  essential  to  contests  between  gentlemen,  and 
if  they  cannot  be  secui'ed  in  intercollegiate  contests,  these 
contests  must  cease.  The  entrance  of  the  professional  spirit 
into  college  athletics  has  tended  to  promote  the  vice  of 
betting  upon  the  issue  of  the  games.  Harvard  has  taken 
the  lead  in  the  reform  of  the  objectionable  practices  that 
have  lowered  the  character  of  college  athletic  sports. 


HARVARD    UNIVERSITY 


23 


But  while  athletics  have  of  late  occupied  a  larger  share 
of  public  attention  than  the  other  parts  of  college  training, 
and  have  seemed  consequently  to  have  a  disproportionate 
development  in  college  life,  the  progress  of  Harvard  as  an 
institution  of  mental  education  and  of  learning:,  and  her 
advance  towards  the  position  of  a  true  university,  have  been 
such  as  greatly  to  change  her  relative  position  to  all  other 
institutions  of  a  similar  sort  in  the  United  States.  The  last 
twenty-five  years  have  been  a  period  of  transition  for  her 
from  the  traditional  narrow  academic  system  to  a  new,  lilt- 
era],  and  comprehensive  system,  in  which  the  ideal  of  an 
American  university— a  different  ideal  from  the  English  of 


t'LAVEKLKV    HALL,  CAMBK1DGE 


24  FOUli  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

the  German — has  been  gradually  working  itself  out.  The 
result  is  not  yet  complete,  the  ideal  not  yet  realized,  so  far 
as  the  realization  of  such  an  ideal  may  be  possible,  but  the 
progress  towards  it  is  steady.  No  work  of  greater  impor- 
tance to  the  nation  has  been  going  on  anywhere  during  this 
time.  It  deserves  far  greater  popular  attention  than  it  has 
received,  far  greater  popular  support.  It  has  become  an  in- 
stitution in  which  an  American  may  feel  a  legitimate  pride. 
An  outline  can  render  but  little  of  the  life  of  a  great 
figure,  but  it  may  show  its  proportions.  Harvard  College 
offers  this  year  nearly  three  hundred  elective  courses  of 
instruction,  most  of  them  requiring  attendance  of  three 
hours  a  week  at  recitation  or  lecture.*  The  main  intent 
of  an  undergraduate  student  should  be  to  secure  instruction 
in  those  branches  of  knowledge  likely  to  be  most  service- 
able for  the  general  culture  of  his  mind,  and  for  providing 
him  with  intellectual  tastes  and  resources.  It  is  a  misuse 
of  rare  opportunities  if  he  confines  himself  to  studies  of  a 
technically  scientific  character,  or  to  such  as  partake  of  the 
character  of  the  professional  studies  to  which  he  intends  to 
give  his  later  years  of  preparation  for  life  in  the  world.  It 
may,  indeed,  be  his  misfortune  that,  obliged  by  narrow 
means  to  hasten  his  entrance  to  a  profession  which  shall 
provide  him  with  a  livelihood,  he  is  compelled  to  neglect 
the  generous  and  liberalizing  studies  of  letters  and  the  arts, 
studies  known  collectively  under  the  fortunate  term  of  the 
humanities,  in  order  to  concentrate  himself  on  special  lines 
of  professional  work.  But  everything  is  done  at  Harvard 
to  prevent  or  to  diminish  this  necessity  by  the  provision  of 
scholarships  by  which  a  considerable  part  of  the  cost  of  his 

*  In  1S93-1J4  the  total  number  of  hours  of  instruction  given  weekly  was  761. 


11  AH  VA Rl>    UNI  I  'MMSIT  Y 


25 


education  is  lifted  from  the  shoulders  of  the  poor,  indus- 
trious, and  capable  student.  The  cost  of  living  at  Harvard 
on  the  most  economical  basis  consistent  with  health,  and 
including  the  tuition  fee  of  $150,  may  be  set  at  from  $400 
to  $500  a  year.  In  this  sum  are  not  included  the  expenses 
of  the  long  vacation  or  the  cost  of  clothes.  Liberal  pro- 
vision is  made  for  the  aid  of  the  poorer  students,  the  total 


STUDENTS    ROOM    IN    CLAYEISLKY    HA1.-L,  CAMBKIDUK 


sum  annually  distributed  amounting  to  not  less  than  $50,000. 
This  is  given  mainly  in  the  form  of  scholarships,  of  which 
every  year  not  less  than  one  hundred  and  twenty -five,  vary- 
ing in  amount  from  $90  to  $300,  are  assigned  to  needy  and 
meritorious  students,  so  that  the  actual  cost  of  education  at 
Harvard  for  a  student  receiving  a  scholarship  of  the  average 


■jC,  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

value  of  $236  need  not  be  more  than  about  the  same  sum. 
He  can,  without  excessive  labor,  secure  his  degree  of  A.B.  in 
three  years,  and  if  he  has  been  wise  in  the  selection  of  his 
studies,  he  will  be  able  to  enter  one  of  the  professional 
schools  already  in  possession  of  faculties  disciplined  by  se- 
rious training,  and  of  a  general  mental  culture  of  inesti- 
mable worth  for  the  happiness  and  refinement  of  life. 

The  number  of  teachers  giving  instruction  in  the  under- 
graduate department  and  the  graduate  school  is  not  far 
from  one  hundred  and  fifty. 

Ample  provision,  on  a  scale  not  attained  elsewhere  in 
America,  is  made  for  the  needs  of  scientific  instruction  in 
the  biological,  chemical,  and  physical  laboratories,  in  the 
geological  and  mineralogical  cabinets,  in  the  collections  of 
natural  history,  and  in  the  botanical  gardens.  But  the  cen- 
tre of  the  intellectual  life  of  the  university  is  to  be  found 
in  the  library,  which,  under  the  charge  of  its  present  emi- 
nent librarian,  Mr.  Justin  Winsor,  is  administered  with  a 
liberality  and  efficiency  unparalleled  in  any  collegiate  libra- 
ry in  the  world.  The  college  library  proper  now  contains 
about  315,000  volumes  and  over  300,000  pamphlets,  and  if 
the  libraries  of  the  separate  schools  and  class-rooms  be 
added,  the  total  number  of  volumes  is  more  than  430,000. 
The  accessions  to  the  university  library  during  the  ten 
years  from  ISS-t  to  1S93  inclusive  have  been  at  the  rate 
of  something  over  14,000  volumes  annually.  The  number 
of  persons  making  use  of  the  library  steadily  increases 
from  year  to  year.  Seventeen  years  ago  57  per  cent,  of 
the  students  made  use  of  it;  in  1S87-88  the  proportion  for 
the  whole  college  had  increased  to  89  per  cent.,  for  the 
three  upper  classes  to  97  per  cent. ;  in  1888-89  the  respective 
numbers  were  87  per  cent,  and  95  per  cent.;  in  1892-93  the 


TTTTT71 


!^  all*  WIRE 


^-^:"-->; :  • 


nARTAnn  noAT-norsE  ox  the  chakles  r.irEK 


number  of  students  who  made  no  recorded  use  of  the  library 
was  41  out  of  a  total  of  1449.  A  more  striking  illustration 
of  the  general  intellectual  activity  of  the  undergraduates 
could  hardly  be  found.  Every  student  is  allowed  to  take 
out  three  volumes  at  a  time,  and  to  change  them  as  often 
as  he  may  desire.  The  total  number  of  volumes  (not  in- 
cluding those  taken  out  for  a  single  night)  taken  out  in 
1SS7-8S  was  05,639 ;  in  1888-89  it  was  68,892 ;  in  1892-93  it 
was  80,380.  The  use  of  books  within  the  library  itself  is 
constant  and  increasing.  Every  facility  is  provided  to  make 
its  stores  accessible  and  serviceable  to  the  utmost  degree. 
There  can  hardly  be  a  greater  advantage  to  the  young 
student,  no  less  than  to  the  old,  than  this  placing  at  his 
free  disposal  the  treasures  of  a  great  library,  and  there  is 
nothing  in  which  a  greater  contrast  is  afforded  to  the  com- 
mon practice  of  most  foreign  universities.  The  advanced 
student  who  returns  to  Harvard  after  a  residence  abroad 
finds  in  its  open  library  a  compensation  for  whatever  other 
advantages  a  foreign  seat  of  learning  may  offer.  In  this 
administration  of  its  library  Harvard  has  set  a  needed  and 
beneficial  example  to  all  other  institutions  of  learning.  A 
natural  doubt  may,  however,  arise  as  to  whether  a  young 


28  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

student,  unaccustomed  to  the  use  of  books,  is  likely  to  make 
judicious  use  of  the  opportunity  thus  put  within  his  reach; 
but  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  his  use  will  generally  be 
guided  in  the  first  instance  by  the  directions  of  his  instruct- 
ors, and  that  he  will  thus  gradually  learn  how  to  help  him- 
self in  the  vast  choice  set  before  him  of  the  books  fitted  for 
his  needs  or  his  entertainment. 

The  advice  and  assistance  of  teachers  is  not  confined  to 
the  class-room  or  the  matter  of  studies.  Every  student  on 
his  entrance  to  college  is  referred  to  a  member  of  the  Fac- 
ulty, who  will  act  as  his  adviser  in  regard  to  all  matters  in 
which  he  may  stand  in  need  of  counsel,  such,  for  instance, 
as  a  judicious  scheme  and  choice  of  courses  of  study,  or 
any  of  his  social,  economical,  and  moral  interests.  The  stu- 
dent is  thus  brought  at  once  into  kindly  human  relations 
with  a  representative  of  the  college  authorities,  and  no 
parent  need  be  afraid,  lest,  in  sending  his  son  to  Harvard, 
he  should  be  left  without  the  help  of  judicious,  disinter- 
ested, and  friendly  counsel. 

The  progress  of  the  university  as  a  true  school  of  learn- 
ing has  been  nowhere  more  marked  of  late  than  in  the  im- 
provement of  its  professional  schools.  In  the  Law  and 
Medical  schools  this  has  been  brought  about  mainly  by  the 
raising  of  the  requirements  of  admission  to  them,  by  bet- 
ter methods  and  enlarged  scope  of  instruction,  by  the  intro- 
duction of  thorough  examinations,  and  by  insisting  upon  a 
longer  period  of  study  as  preliminary  to  the  obtaining  of  a 
degree.  The  required  term  of  instruction  is  now  at  least 
one  year  longer  than  it  was  twenty  years  ago.  The  change 
thus  wrought  in  these  schools  is  radical,  and  their  example 
has  done  much  to  raise  the  standard  of  professional  education 
throughout  the  country.    In  the  Divinity  School  the  change 


HARVARD    UNIVERSITY 


29 


has  been  not  less  remarkable.  The  professors  have  been 
drawn  without  preference  from  denominations  of  widely 
differing  creeds,  orthodox  and  liberal  alike;  they  have 
worked  together  in  perfect  harmony ;  the  long  tradition 
of  high  learning  in  the  profession  lias  been  maintained  by 
them,  while  their  number  has  been  increased,  and  the  range 
of  instruction  en- 
larged. In  all  the 
schools  the  instructors, 
no  less  than  the  pu- 
pils, have  felt  the  ben- 
efit of  these  changes, 
and  the  spirit  of  en- 
ergetic industry  which 
animates  them  reacts 
to  its  advantage  upon 
the  undergraduate  de- 
partment. 

But  the  most  im- 
portant development 
of  the  university  in 
late  years  has  been 
that  of  what  is  now 
known  as  the  Gradu- 
ate School  —  that  is, 
the  department  of  ad- 
vanced studies  pur- 
sued by  graduates  who 
intend  to  devote  them- 
selves to  teaching,  or 
to  independent  investi- 
gation and  research  in 


GORE     HALL 


30  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

some  one  of  the  higher  branches  of  knowledge,  or  to  gen- 
eral self-culture.  The  importance  of  these  studies  as  essen- 
tial to  the  progress  of  civilization  is  felt  in  proportion  to 
the  growth  of  the  nation  in  wealth  and  material  power. 
The  United  States  cannot  maintain  an  equal  position  with 
other  nations  in  this  progress  except  by  the  fostering  of 
these  highest  intellectual  pursuits,  and  no  duty  is  more  im- 
perative upon  our  leading  schools  of  learning  than  to  offer 
the  best  attainable  instruction  in  those  studies  by  which 
knowledge  may  be  increased,  the  level  of  intellectual  life 
elevated,  and  the  consequent  moral  improvement  of  the 
community  secured.  The  teachers  capable  of  giving  this 
indispensable  instruction  are  comparatively  few,  and  the 
means  for  providing  them  with  appropriate  salaries,  as  well  as 
with  the  leisure  requisite  for  their  own  progress,  are  scanty 
as  yet  in  every  American  institution  of  learning.  It  is  not 
claiming  too  much  to  say  that  Harvard  is,  in  these  respects 
at  least,  not  inferior  to  any  other  university  in  the  United 
States.  Indeed,  in  certain  respects  she  distinctly  leads  the 
advance ;  for  she  embraces  within  the  university  not  only 
the  schools  of  professional  training,  but  also  a  collection 
of  separate  institutions  devoted  to  the  increase  of  special 
knowledge,  and  so  equipped  as  to  make  them  the  rivals  of 
the  best  that  could  be  brought  into  comparison  with  them 
in  any  country.  Such  is  the  Museum  of  Comparative  Zool- 
ogy, whose  magnificent  collections,  due  to  the  genius,  the 
labors,  and  the  liberality  of  the  two  Agassizes,  father  and 
son,  afford  to  the  student  of  zoology  means  as  ample  and  as 
well  arranged  to  assist  him  in  the  progress  of  his  studies  as 
any  museum  in  the  world  ;  such,  too,  is  the  Botanical  Muse- 
um, established  by  the  great  master  of  American  botany, 
Asa  Gray,  and  presided  over  by  teachers  worthy  of  their 


HARVARD    UXIYEUSITY 


31 


master ;  such  are  the  Chemical  Laboratory,  and  the  Jeffer- 
son Physical  Laboratory,  in  which  the  most  modern  means 
and  appliances  are  provided  for  the  prosecution  of  a  science 
that  with  astonishing  rapidity  is  extending  its  triumphs  in 
the  conquest  of  new  fields  from  nature;  such  is  the  Ob- 
servatory, for  which  the  genius  and  devotion  of  successive 
directors,  and  the  generous  endowments  of  private  persons, 
have  secured  a  position  in  the  first  rank  of  astronomical 
observatories.     All  these   and   other  important  subsidiary 


MUSEUM    OF   COMPARATIVE    ZOOLOGY 


institutions  are  open  to  pupils  prepared  to  take  advantage 
of  the  means  of  instruction  which  they  offer.  For  students 
of  other  subjects  in  science,  and  of  literature  and  philoso- 
phy, advanced  instruction  is  provided  according  to  their 
needs  and  proficiency,  while  the  resources  which  the  library 
affords  are  even  more  important  to  the  graduate  than  the 
undergraduate  student.  The  school  is  strengthened  by 
fellowships  and  scholarships  which  have  been  endowed  by 


32  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

benefactors  of  the  university,  "  for  the  encouragement,"  to 
borrow  the  terms  of  one  of  these  endowments,  "  of  a  higher, 
broader,  and  more  thorough  scholarship  than  is  required  or 
expected  of  undergraduates  in  all  sound  literature  or  learn- 
ing," or,  in  the  words  of  another  of  the  deeds  of  gift,  "  for 
assisting  to  support  one  or  more  pupils  .  .  .  preferably  such 
as  shall  express  the  determination  to  devote  their  lives  to 
the  advancement  of  theoretic  science  and  original  investiga- 
tion." In  the  year  1893-94  there  were  256  students  regis- 
tered in  this  department,  and  there  seems  to  be  good  reason 
to  anticipate  that  its  growth  will  henceforth  be  steady.  To 
raise  the  standard  of  intellectual  work  in  this  country  near- 
er to  the  highest  level  attained  by  it  elsewhere,  to  attract 
disinterested  scholars  in  greater  numbers,  men  who  pursue 
their  studies  primarily  for  the  sake  of  pure  learning,  and 
not  for  a  livelihood,  scholars  who  in  their  turn  shall  lead 
the  advance  of  knowledge,  and  help  to  supply  the  ever- 
increasing  need  of  higher  intelligence  and  better  culture,  of 
competent  criticism,  efficient  suggestion  and  wise  leader- 
ship in  politics  and  in  society,  men  who  shall  keep  alive  in 
themselves  and  quicken  in  others  the  best  ideals  of  individ- 
ual and  national  life,  who  shall  be  fitted  to  guide  and 'help 
and  instruct  and  inspire  the  youth  of  each  generation — this 
is  the  chief  problem  which  Harvard  and  other  of  our  prin- 
cipal schools  of  learning  are  now  engaged  in  solving. 

The  real  vitality  of  a  university  deserving  of  the  name 
depends,  indeed,  not  so  much  on  the  excellence  and  abun- 
dance of  the  direct  guidance  which  it  offers  along  the  most 
advanced  lines  of  the 'ever-advancing  forces  of  learning,  as 
upon  the  spirit  with  which  it  inspires  its  students.  The 
highest  end  of  the  highest  education  is  not  anything  which 
can    be   directly  taught,  but  is   the   consummation   of  all 


HARVARD   UNIVERSITY  35 

studies.  It  is  the  final  result  of  intellectual  culture  in  the 
development  of  the  breadth,  serenity,  and  solidity  of  mind, 
and  in  the  attainment  of  that  complete  self-possession  which 
finds  expression  in  character.  To  secure  this  end,  one  means, 
above  all,  is  requisite,  which  has,  strangely  enough,  been 
greatly  neglected  in  our  schemes  of  education — namely,  the 
culture  of  the  faculty  of  imagination.  For  it  is  by  means 
of  this  faculty,  acting  in  conjunction  with  and  under  the 
control  of  reason,  that  the  true  nature  and  relative  im- 
portance of  the  objects  of  study  are  to  be  discovered,  and 
the  attainment  of  knowledge  for  practical  use  brought  into 
connection  with  the  pursuit  of  truth  as  the  intellectual  basis 
of  conduct.  The  largest  acquisitions  of  knowledge  remain 
barren  unless  quickened  by  the  imagination  into  vital  ele- 
ments of  moral  discipline  and  growth.  The  activity  of  the 
imagination  is  needed  not  more  for  the  interpretation  of  his- 
tory than  for  the  appreciation  of  the  significance  of  poetic 
literature  and  the  other  fine  arts,  whose  chief  interest  con- 
sists not  in  their  works  as  independent  products,  but  as  ex- 
pressions of  the  inner  life  and  highest  powers  of  man  ;  it  is 
needed  not  more  for  the  recognition  of  the  nature  and  the 
discovery  of  the  solution  of  social  problems  than  for  the  or- 
dering of  the  multifarious  facts  of  the  exact  sciences  so  as 
to  discriminate  the  principles  or  laws  of  which  each  fact  is 
an  illustration.  Mathematics,  physical  and  natural  science, 
philology  in  its  widest  acceptance,  all  mere  knowledge,  in 
fine,  affords  the  material  for  the  ultimate  work  of  the  im- 
agination, and  it  is  therefore  the  culture  of  the  imagination 
which,  if  the  advanced  courses  of  study  in  the  university 
are  to  be  properly  ordered,  demands  attention  beyond  that 
which,  in  the  oldest  and  most  famous  institutions  of  learn- 
ing, has  hitherto  been  accorded  to  it.     The  neglect  with 


36  FOVli  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

which  the  studies  directly  contributing  to  this  culture  have 
been  treated  is  easily  to  be  accounted  for  historically,  and 
the  conditions  of  our  actual  civilization  are  hardly  more 
favorable  for  them  than  those  of  the  past  have  been.  It  is 
true,  indeed,  that  their  need  has  become  more  obvious  with 
the  splendid  rapidity  of  the  progress  in  mere  knowledge 
characteristic  of  our  own  times.  Progress  in  knowledge 
does  not  necessarily  involve  a  corresponding  contempora- 
neous progress  in  intelligence,  wisdom,  and  virtue ;  on  the 
contrary,  its  common,  immediate,  and  direct  effect  is  to 
strengthen  the  forces  of  materialism,  and  the  chief  efforts 
of  our  higher  institutions  of  learning  should  therefore  be 
directed  to  provide  such  education  as  may  serve  more  or 
less  to  counteract  this  prevailing  tendency.  Arid  this  edu- 
cation is  to  be  found,  and  found  onkr,  in  the  intelligent 
and  comprehensive  study  of  those  arts  in  which  men  have 
sought  to  express  themselves — their  thoughts,  feelings,  and 
emotions — in  forms  of  beauty.  For  it  is  these  arts,  prop- 
erly called  the  humanities,  which  set  the  standard  of  human 
attainment,  and  it  is  the  study  of  them  that  affords  the 
best  culture  of  the  imagination.  This  study  should  be 
regarded  as  the  proper  accompaniment  and  crown  of  all 
other  studies.  All  others  are  enlightened  and  elevated  by 
it.  The  studies  that  nourish  the  soul,  that  afford  permanent 
resources  of  delight  and  recreation,  that  maintain  ideals 
of  conduct,  and  develop  those  sympathies  upon  which  the 
progress  and  welfare  of  society  depend,  are  the  studies  that 
quicken  and  nourish  the  imagination  and  are  vivified  and 
moralized  by  it.  The  greatest  need  of  Harvard,  as  of  other 
universities,  at  the  present  time,  is  that  of  endowments  for 
fuller  instruction  in  the  learning  which  tends  to  the  direct 
cultivation  of  this  faculty. 


THE    WASHINGTON    ELM 


A  striking  illustration  of  the  general  indifference  to  it 
is  afforded  at  Harvard  by  the  disregard  of  the  influence  of 
architecture  as  an  element  in  education,  as  shown  in  the 
character  of  the  buildings  erected  in  the  last  half-century, 
and  which  are  evidences  of  the  material  prosperity  of  the 
university.  Harvard  by  no  means  stands  alone  in  her  neg- 
lect in  this  respect.  No  one  denies  that  their  surroundings 
have  a  subtle  and  strong,  though  perhaps  unconsciously  re- 
ceived, influence  upon  the  disposition  of  men.  No  one  de- 
nies that  culture  of  the  eye  in  the  recognition  and  appre- 

3* 


38  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

ciation  of  beauties  of  form,  color,  and  proportion  is  de- 
sirable ;  that  the  pleasure  if  not  the  happiness  of  life  is  in- 
creased by  enjoyment  of  these  things.  No  one  denies  that 
noble  and  beautiful  buildings,  in  noble  association  and  well 
designed  for  the  purposes  for  which  they  are  intended,  be- 
come more  and  more  impressive  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion as  they  become  more  richly  invested  with  associations 
of  human  interest.  The  youth  who  lives  surrounded  by 
beautiful  and  dignified  buildings  to  which  inspiring  memo- 
ries belong  cannot  but  be  strongly  affected,  less  or  more, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  according  to  his  native  sensi- 
bilities and  perceptions,  by  the  constant  presence  of  objects 
that,  while  pleasing  and  refining  the  eye,  cultivate  his  seuse 
of  beauty,  and  arouse  not  merely  poetic  emotion,  but  his 
sympathy  with  the  spirit  and  generous  efforts  of  his  distant 
predecessors.  His  inward  nature  takes  on  an  impress  from 
the  outer  sight.  He  may  need  help  at  first  to  discern  the 
expression  in  the  work  of  the  beauty  which  it  embodies, 
but  he  needs  no  help  to  feel  its  dignity  and  venerableness. 
The  value  of  the  influence  of  noble  architecture,  simple  as 
it  may  be,  at  a  great  seat  of  education,  especially  in  our 
country,  is  hardly  to  be  overestimated ;  and  yet  it  has  been 
either  absolutely  disregarded  at  Harvard,  or,  if  recognized, 
the  attempt  to  secure  buildings  that  should  exert  this  in- 
fluence has  been  little  short  of  total  failure.  If  some  great 
benefactor  of  the  university  should  arise,  ready  to  do  a  work 
that  should  hand  down  his  name  in  ever-increasing  honor 
with  posterity,  he  might  require  the  destruction  of  all  the 
buildings  erected  in  the  last  half-century,  and  their  recon- 
struction with  simple  and  beautiful  design,  in  mutually 
helpful,  harmonious,  and  effective  relation  to  each  other, 
so  that  the  outward  aspect  of  the  university  should  better 


HARVARD    L'XIVERSITY 


39 


consist  with  its  object  as  a  place  for  the  best  education  of 
the  youth  of  the  nation.  Such  a  superb  work  of  patriotism 
is  hardly  to  be  expected  in  this  generation,  but  at  some  time 
it  must  be  accomplished,  by  individual  or  by  public  means, 
if  the  university  is  ever  to  fulfil  one  of  its  most  important 
functions. 

Conspicuous  as  Harvard  is,  there  is  no  wonder  that  she 
is  the  object  of  constant  criticism.  So  long  as  this  criticism 
is  honest  and  founded  upon  knowledge,  there  is  nothing  but 
good  in  it.  But  the  peculiar  position  which  Harvard  occu- 
pies exposes  her  to  much  criticism  that  is  ignorant,  unfair, 
and  at  times  malevolent.  Absolutely  independent  as  she  is 
in  matters  of  religion  of  sectarian  relations,  she  lacks  the 
support  of  any  denomination,-  and  is  exposed  to  attack  from 
newspapers  which,  nominally  religious,  are  actually  secta- 
rian in  character,  and  have  at  heart  the  special  interest 
of  denominational  institutions  of  learning.  Her  old  motto, 
"  Christo  et  Ecdeshv"  Harvard  translates  literally,  "  To 
Christ  and  His  Church" — the  Church  that  embraces  all 
mankind.     Her  position  is  not  acceptable  to  sectaries,  and 


AUSTIN    HALL 


40  FUUS  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

the  very  strength  which  she  derives  from  it  exposes  her  to 
many  an  irabittered  assault.  Another  but  inferior  source 
of  unfair  criticism  has  its  origin  in  the  disappointments 
which  occur  among  the  large  body  of  her  pupils  and  their 
friends.  Among  a  thousand  students  there  will  always  be 
a  proportion  of  failures,  and  another  proportion  to  which 
the  special  opportunities  of  any  given  institution  will  prove 
unfitted.  Both  these  classes  are  tempted  to  find  excuses 
for  their  failure  in  defects  of  the  institution,  either  imag- 
inary, or  exaggerated  and  admitting  of  remedy.  A  worth- 
less student,  who  has  made  a  sorry  affair  of  his  college 
course,  vents  his  spleen  in  misrepresentations  of  the  college 
which  could  not  save  him  in  his  own  despite.  But  Harvard 
courts  publicity.  She  has  nothing  but  gain  to  anticipate 
from  it.  Even  were  it  not  so,  she  would  still  court  it ;  for 
her  ruling  desire  is  not  for  her  own  credit  and  success,  but 
for  the  best  progress  of  university  education.  Harvard  has 
at  least  educated  herself  so  far  that  jealousy  is  not  a  ruling 
element  in  her  character.  There  is  no  institution  of  learn- 
ing in  the  world  that  makes  a  more  candid  and  full  expo- 
sition of  itself  from  year  to  year  than  that  which  she 
makes  in  the  Annual  Beports  of  her  Bresident  and  Treas- 
urer, with  the  accompanying  reports  of  the  heads  of  her 
different  departments.  They  afford  as  complete  and  exact 
a  view  as  possible  of  the  actual  state  of  the  university,  and 
they  may  be  had  by  any  one  for  the  asking.  The  state- 
ment of  the  Treasurer  is  always  a  remarkable  and  inter- 
esting document.  It  presents  a  detailed  account  of  the 
finances  of  the  university — its  investments,  receipts,  and  ex- 
penditures. The  value  of  such  a  statement  consists  not 
only  in  its  effect  in  maintaining  public  confidence  in  the 
careful  management  of  the  funds  in  the  hands  of  the  cor- 


A    STREET    IX    CAMBRIDGE 


poration,  but  also  in  its  laying  open  for  public  comment 
and  criticism  the  cost  of  each  department  of  the  university 
and  exhibiting  its  needs.  It  is  well  understood  that  a  uni- 
versity, like  a  hospital,  should  always  be  poor,  in  the  sense 
of  finding  its  income  insufficient  for  the  demand  upon  it, 
and  of  constantly  expending  all  its  available  means  for  the 
promotion  of  the  objects  for  which  it  exists.  The  invested 
funds  of  Harvard  increase  by  gift  or  legacy  to  the  amount 
of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  annually.  For  the  past 
ten  years  the  average  amount  of  this  annual  increase  has 
been  $350,000.  Large  as  this  sum  is,  Harvard  stands  in 
need  of  much  more.     Her  total  invested  funds  amounted 


42  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

at  the  close  of  her  last  financial  year,  July  31,  1893,  to 
$8,390,543 — a  sum  inadequate  to  supply  the  means  for 
such  services  to  the  community  as  she  is  prepared  to  ren- 
der, provided  only  that  she  has  the  requisite  income;  a 
paltry  sum  in  comparison  with  the  wealth  of  her  gradu- 
ates, and  in  its  paltriness  discreditable  not  only  to  them, 
but  to  the  men  of  wealth  in  the  nation  at  large,  whose 
privilege  no  less  than  whose  duty  it  is  to  provide  from 
their  superabundant  means  for  the  higher  education  of  the 
people.  Harvard  needs  at  this  moment,  in  order  to  fulfil 
her  functions  satisfactorily,  an  immediate  endowment  of 
not  less  than  five  millions,  with  steady  annual  accessions 
in  proportion  to  the  steady  increase  of  the  claims  upon  her, 
to  enlarge  the  scope  and  variety  of  her  teachings ;  to  pro- 
mote original  work  by  which  knowledge  shall  be  increased  ; 
to  provide  salaries  and  pensions  for  her  teachers  such  as 
shall  give  them  a  livelihood  appropriate  to  their  calling  and 
social  position,  and  to  relieve  them  from  anxiety  in  regard 
to  the  years  when  they  shall  be  no  longer  capable  of  active 
service. 

But  the  true  life  of  a  university  depends  finally  not  so 
much  on  the  abundance  of  its  means  as  on  the  character  of 
those  who  use  them,  on  the  spirit  that  animates  its  admin- 
istrators and  instructors,  and  on  their  individual  capacity 
to  exercise  a  right  influence  upon  their  pupils.  Harvard 
has  been  fortunate  in  a  long  succession  of  eminent  teach- 
ers, who  have  won  from  generation  to  generation  the  re- 
spect of  their  pupils,  and  have  set  to  them  an  example  of 
devotion  to  duty,  and  of  simplicity  and  dignity  of  life.  It 
is  a  piece  of  conspicuous  good-fortune  that  at  the  present 
time,  when  the  transition  is  going  on  from  the  traditional 
methods  and  conditions  of  a  colonial  college  to  the  forms 


HARVARD   UNIVERSITY  43 

and  requirements  of  a  national  university,  she  has  at  her 
head  one  of  the  ablest,  most  foresighted,  and  liberal-mind- 
ed of  public  servants. 

The  steady  and  solid  progress  made  by  Harvard  during 
the  twenty-five  years  of  President  Eliot's  administration  af- 
fords the  promise  of  future  advance.*  No  pause  is  possible 
in  the  course  of  an  institution  which  by  its  very  nature  is 
forced  to  advance  with  the  progress  of  knowledge  and  with 
the  ever-increasing  demands  of  the  community.  The  stand- 
ard of  such  a  seat  of  learning  is  continually  rising.  Each 
forward  step  compels  the  next.  It  can,  indeed,  never  reach 
its  aim,  never  perfectly  fulfil  its  function.  Its  ideal  remains 
constantly  unattainable,  though  constantly  more  clearly 
defined  and  more  distinctly  visible.  And  yet  the  perma- 
nent features  of  this  ideal  never  vary.  They  bear  always 
the  fair  proportions  of  a  school  where  truth  is  sought  by 
research,  inquiry,  and  speculation ;  where  the  youth  of  a 
nation  are  taught  to  obtain  mastery  of  themselves  by  the 
discipline  of  character  as  well  as  by  acquisition  of  knowl- 
edge ;  where  they  are  helped  to  the  understanding  of  their 
nature  and  duties  as  social  beings,  and  are  instructed  not 
only  in  matters  serviceable  to  their  individual  interests,  but 
in  the  nobler  learning  by  which  they  are  inspired  to  subor- 
dinate their  personal  concerns  to  the  good  of  the  commu- 
nity. The  ideal  university  is  the  training -place  of  the 
wisest,  strongest,  and  best  men.  Such  a  university  Harvard 
aspires  to  become. 

*  The  exceptional  character  of  the  services  of  President  Eliot  in  guiding  the 
development  of  the  university  during  this  period,  and  the  "results  which  have 
made  his  administration  the  most  remarkable  in  her  history,"  are  ably  set  forth 
in  an  article  by  Professor  Dunbar,  in  the  Harvard  Graduates'  Magazint  for 
June,  1894. 


YALE    UNIVERSITY 


Divinity  School. 


Sheffield  Scientific  School. 


Kfnl  Uhornlnry.  |iif.Ihi-K*1I. 

■ 


U  :-■  um.  Oymnanlom. 


SliuAlvlil  skiniTlflt  School 


'^fiiy« 


pitni 


i&L 


Vim     '  ^^i''^  il-*?- 


.'•jc-("i 


>-->.  .-■ 


s'*   ** 


II 


r.l 


11- 


mi 


■■HMt 


[  *■    ■   '>M 


\  ■.,,.!.■,  Ml    11.11 


Soulli  Middle,      Ljee 
ii.t-.ni  Hall 

BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  BUILDING8  OF  YALE  UNIVERSITY 


II 


i^jjPM^JpT   is  hard  to  give  a  systematic  account  of  Yale 


University,  past  or  present,  because  Yale  itself 
is  not  systematically  arranged,  and  never  has 
been.  At  no  time  in  its  history  have  its  meth- 
ods and  traditions  borne  the  impress  of  a  consistent  plan. 
It  is  the  result  of  a  growth,  often  quite  unforeseen  by  those 
in  authority,  through  which  the  collegiate  school  of  1700 
developed  with  slow  steps  into  the  college  of  1800  and  the 
university  of  1900. 

Yale  College  was  founded,  after  a  fashion,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  last  century,  along  the  north  shore  of  Long- 
Island  Sound.  For  many  years  it  was  difficult  to  say  what 
it  was  or  where  it  belonged.  It  was  not  called  a  college, 
but  a  collegiate  school,  because  the  General  Assembly  of 
Connecticut  was  afraid  to  attract  the  notice  of  England  to 
any  undertaking  of  this  kind.  Such  notice  would  certainly 
have  cost  the  college  its  charter,  and  might  readily  have 
produced  the  same  result  to  the  colony  itself.  Its  teaching 
force  did  not  at  first  receive  the  names  of  president  and 
professors,  but  was  obliged  to  content  itself  with  the  less 
honorable  titles  of  "rector"  and  "tutors."  Even  the  loca- 
tion of  the  school  was  very  uncertain,  and  it  was  oftentimes 
a  house  divided  against  itself.  The  poet's  description  of 
Harvard's  earliest  beginnings, 


48  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

"Two  nephews  of  the  President 
And  the  Professor's  son- 
Lord  !  how  the  Seniors  ordered  round 
That  Freshman  class  of  one!" 

could  not  be  applied  to  Yale ;  for  if  the  rector  lived  at  Mil- 
ford  and  the  tutors  at  Saybrook,  the  Senior  class  was  located 
at  the  former  place  and  the  Freshman  class  at  the  latter. 
It  was  not  until  the  removal  of  the  school  to  New  Haven  in 
1716,  and  the  amendment  of  its  charter  in  1745,  that  it  suc- 
cessively attained  a  local  habitation  and  a  name. 

The  teaching  in  those  early  days  was  meagre  enough. 
Even  after  the  institution  had  assumed  the  name  of  a  col- 
lege, the  president  was  often  the  only  man  competent  to 
give  anything  like  professorial  instruction.  A  professorship 
of  divinity  was  founded  in  1746,  and  one  of  mathematics 
and  natural  philosophy  in  1770.  But  it  was  not  until  the 
administration  of  Timothy  Dwight,  the  grandfather  of  the 
present  incumbent,  that  a  group  of  professorships  was  es- 
tablished which  gave  a  standard  of  scholarship  to  the  insti- 
tution, and  an  element  of  permanence  to  the  academic  body. 
With  rare  discernment,  President  Dwight  secured  the  ser- 
vices of  three  young  men  of  first-rate  talent — Kingsley  in 
the  classics,  Day  in  mathematics,  and  Silliman  in  natural 
science  —  who  remained  in  the  service  of  the  college  for 
nearly  half  a  century,  and  who  made  it  a  college  in  fact  as 
well  as  in  name. 

It  was  hardly  a  Congregational  college  to  the  extent 
which  is  often  assumed.  Undoubtedly  its  foundation  was 
stimulated  by  the  distrust  which  the  more  conservative  ele- 
ment in  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut  felt  towards  the 
liberal  tendencies  of  Harvard  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century.     The  hopes  and  interests  of  men  like  the  Mathers 


YALE   CXIVEIiSITT  49 

were  centred  in  Yale  for  this  reason.  But  it  is  none  the  less 
true  that  Yale  was  a  Connecticut  college  rather  than  a  Con- 
gregational one,  and  was  put  in  the  hands  of  Congregational 
ministers  as  being  the  chief  educational  authorities  of  the 
colony.  A  large  part  of  the  money  given  to  the  college  in 
its  early  days  came  from  Episcopalians.    Elihu  Yale  was 


PRESIDENT    DWIfiHT 


as  much  an  Episcopalian  as  he  was  anything ;  and  Dean 
Berkeley  was  a  prominent  though  somewhat  erratic  mem- 
ber of  the  English  Establishment.  The  college  itself  was 
once,  at  least,  near  going  over  to  Episcopacy — so  near  that 
poor  old  Increase  ilather,  in  Boston,  died  of  fright.  In  the 
middle  of  the  last  century  we  not  infrequently  find  Episco- 

4 


50  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

pal  ministers  preaching  in  the  college  chapel  as  guests  of 
the  college  authorities.  The  odium  theologicum  was  not  so 
constant  a  force  in  those  days  in  Connecticut  as  it  perhaps 
was  in  Massachusetts.  Connecticut  Congregationalism  was 
often  a  political  and  social  matter  rather  than  a  religious 
one ;  and  in  its  capacity  as  an  "established  "  Church  it  had 
enough  affinity  with  Episcopalianism  to  cause  the  members 
of  these  two  Churches  to  be  banded  together  in  the  closing 
years  of  the  last  century  in  defence  alike  against  the  Quaker, 
the  Methodist,  the  infidel,  or  the  democrat,  as  necessity 
might  demand. 

The  differences  between  the  Congregationalism  of  Con- 
necticut and  of  Massachusetts  had  much  to  do  with  the  dif- 
ferent lines  of  development  taken  by  Yale  and  Harvard 
respectively.  The  fierce  schism  between  orthodox  and  Uni- 
tarian in  Massachusetts  found  little  response  in  Connecticut, 
where  the  lines  of  conflict  were  social  and  political  rather 
than  intellectual.  There  was  in  Connecticut  almost  none  of 
the  awakening  and  ferment  which  filled  eastern  Massachu- 
setts for  at  least  two  generations.  As  we  look  back  upon 
Yale  life  or  Connecticut  life  in  the  early  years  of  the  nine: 
teenth  century,  we  may  admit  that  it  was  less  varied  and 
less  active  than  the  life  of  Harvard  or  of  Massachusetts. 
But  this  difference  was  not  without  its  benefits  to  Yale. 
The  very  absence  of  intellectual  controversy  gave  it  broader 
political  sympathies  and  affiliations.  Those  matters  which 
formed  the  starting-point  of  much  of  the  life  of  Boston  and 
of  Harvard  tended  to  withdraw  Boston  and  Harvard  from 
contact  with  the  nation  as  a  whole.  People  who  did  not 
understand  the  Unitarian  controversy  were  frightened  and 
repelled  by  the  name  of  Unitarianism.  The  fact  that  Mas- 
sachusetts was  always  ready  to  take  an  advanced  position 


YALE  VmVERSITY 


51 


carried  her  too  far  for  the  rest  of  the  United  States  to  fol- 
low. It  was  so  in  the  Constitutional  Convention  of  1788 ; 
it  was  so  in  the  antislavery  movement ;  it  was  so  in  many 
essential  matters  which  affected  the  development  of  Harvard 
College.  By  contrast  with  Harvard,  Yale  had  a  national 
character.  It  did  not  move  too  fast  for  the  people  of  the 
United  States  as  a  whole.     In  1800,  as  in  1S94,  it  was  a 


YALE    COLLEGE,   1793 


national  college.  It  drew  its  students  from  all  parts  of  the 
country,  to  a  far  greater  degree  than  Harvard.  It  was  then, 
as  now,  pre-eminently  the  mother  of  colleges.  Columbia 
and  Princeton,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  like  Johns  Hop. 
kins  and  Cornell  and  a  hundred  other  colleges  in  the  nine- 
teenth, have  had  Yale  graduates  as  their  first  presidents. 
Another  characteristic  of  Yale  which   has  brought  her 


52  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

closer  to  the  national  life  than  Harvard  has  been  her  rela- 
tive poverty.  Professors  and  students  have  both  had  to 
work  for  a  living.  There  has  been,  unfortunately,  no  op- 
portunity to  cultivate,  as  Harvard  has  done,  the  literary 
tastes  and  graces.  Yale  has  not  been  able  to  number 
among  her  professors  names  like  those  of  Lowell,  Long- 
fellow, and  Holmes.  The  Yale  professors  have  been  men 
engaged  in  actual  teaching- work,  and  unfortunately  too 
often  overworked  in  their  teaching.  It  would  have  been  a 
great  thing  for  Yale  could  she  have  strengthened  the  liter- 
ary side  of  her  life.  Yet  there  were  advantages  in  the 
universal  necessity  of  hard  work  without  the  graces.  It 
created  an  esprit  de  corps  which  would  otherwise  have  been 
unattainable.  It  fostered  a  democratic  spirit  among  the 
students.  Poor  and  rich  were  associated  together  in  their 
work  and  in  their  play.  Men  were  judged  by  their  strength 
and  efficiency7  as  men  rather  than  by  their  social  or  pecuni- 
ary standing  in  the  outside  world.  This  democratic  stand- 
ard of  judgment  was  an  important  element  both  in  bring- 
ing Yale  into  closer  contact  and  fuller  sympathy  with  the 
nation  as  a  whole,  and  in  educating  the  students  them- 
selves in  moral  standards.  At  Yale,  to  a  greater  extent 
than  at  Harvard,  the  value  of  the  education  is  due  to  the 
college  life  even  more  than  the  college  instruction.  In  this 
respect,  as  in  many  others,  the  history  of  Yale  has  been 
like  that  of  some  of  the  English  public  schools.  Even 
where  the  course  and  the  methods  of  teaching  have  been 
most  open  to  criticism,  there  has  been  an  influence  in 
college  life  that  could  not  be  weighed  or  measured,  and 
that  sometimes  could  hardly  be  understood  by  those  who 
felt  it,  which  made  men  of  those  who  came  under  its 
influence,  and  which  caused  graduates  to  look  back  upon 


YALE   UNIVERSITY  55 

their  years  of  Vale  life  with  an  almost  unreasoning  affec- 
tion. 

The  comparative  poverty,  the  strength  of  college  feel- 
ings and  traditions,  and  the  absence  of  contact  with  a  great 
intellectual  centre  like  Boston,  made  the  development  of 
the  university  idea  slower  at  Vale  than  at  Harvard.  As 
early  as  1813  professional  schools  began  to  group  them- 
selves about  Yale  College,  but  they  were  loosely  attached 
to  it,  and  formed  no  organic  part  of  the  whole.  They  de- 
pended upon  the  eminence  of  individual  instructors  for  their 
success,  and  with  the  death  of  those  instructors  they  sank 
into  comparative  insignificance.  The  counter-attractions  of 
similar  schools  in  large  cities,  with  their  superior  facilities 
for  attending  courts  or  hospitals,  put  Yale  at  a  disadvan- 
tage in  these  matters,  as  compared  with  Harvard,  Columbia, 
or  the  University  of  Pennsylvania — a  disadvantage  which, 
in  many  of  the  more  practical  lines  of  study,  is  still  felt  to- 
day. Nevertheless,  the  medical  school  attained  great  emi- 
nence under  the  leadership  of  Nathan  Smith,  the  law  school 
had  the  benefit  of  an  instructor  of  extraordinary  ability  in 
Samuel  J.  Hitchcock,  while  the  early  history  of  the  divinity 
school  is  associated  with  the  still  more  celebrated  name  of 
Nathaniel  W.  Taylor.  But  the  connection  of  these  schools 
with  Yale  College  scarcely  consisted  in  anything  more  than 
the  fact  that  the  names  of  their  professors  and  students 
appeared  in  the  same  catalogue.  It  was  not  until  1843, 
nearly  twenty  years  after  its  first  foundation,  that  the  law 
school  was  authorized  to  give  degrees,  nor  were  such  de- 
grees given  by  the  theological  school  until  1867. 

A  most  important  forward  step  was  taken  in  1846  by  the 
establishment  of  courses  of  graduate  instruction.  Little 
was  expected  from  this  project  at  the  time.     It  received 


56  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

but  scant  support  from,  the  college  authorities.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  disinterestedness  of  its  leaders,  it  would  have 
been  in  constant  danger  of  abandonment.  But  it  met  a 
real  need  in  giving  advanced  instruction  to  those  who  were 
pursuing  science  for  its  own  sake,  independent  of  the 
promise  of  diplomas  on  the  one  hand,  or  the  restrictions  of 
college  life  on  the  other.  The  first  courses  were  in  chem- 
istry. Instruction  in  engineering  was  soon  added.  The 
school  received  the  warm  support  of  a  group  of  men  engaged 
in  the  publication  of  the  American  Journal  of  Science,  with 
James  D.  Dana  at  their  head.  The  scope  of  instruction 
was  gradually  widened  until  its  courses  included  not  merely 
physical  science,  but  philology  and  politics.  Degrees  were 
first  given  in  1852.  It  was  not  until  nearly  ten  years  later 
that  the  liberal  gifts  of  Mr.  Sheffield  gave  the  means  of 
establishing  systematic  courses  of  undergraduate  instruc- 
tion in  the  school,  which  from  that  time  forth  bore  his 
name. 

Both  in  its  origin  and  in  its  subsequent  development  the 
Sheffield  Scientific  School  has  been  what  its  name  implies — 
a  scientific  school  as  distinct  from  a  technical  one.  It  has 
attempted  to  teach  principles  rather  than  details.  It  has  not 
attempted,  as  so  many  other  schools  have  done,  to  teach  a 
man  things  he  would  otherwise  learn  in  the  shop  or  the 
mine,  but  to  teach  him  what  he  would  not  learn  in  the  shop 
or  the  mine.  Its  leaders  have  had  no  sympathy  with  the 
idea  that  college  instruction  could  take  the  place  of  practi- 
cal experience.  They  have  tried  so  to  shape  their  instruc- 
tion as  to  enable  the  Sheffield  graduate  to  get  the  fullest 
benefit  from  practical  experience.  They  do  not  try  to  teach 
mechanical  details,  which  change  from  year  to  year  or  from 
shop  to  shop,  but  scientific  principles  which  shall  enable  a 


YALE  UNIVERSITY  59 

man  to  turn  all  details  to  the  best  advantage.  They  use  a 
great  deal  of  laboratory  work,  but  the  laboratory  work  is 
treated  as  a  means  of  study  rather  than  as  an  end  of  study. 
It  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  the  Yale  man  in  starting  life 
that  he  knows  how  much  he  has  to  learn.  He  does  not  con- 
ceive himself  equal  to  the  master -mechanic  on  his  own 
ground.  He  readily  concedes  to  the  master-mechanic  the 
superiority  in  some  points  of  professional  skill;  and  the 
mechanic  is,  for  that  very  reason,  all  the  more  ready  to 
recognize  the  college  man's  superiority  in  others. 

It  has  cost  Professor  Brush  and  his  associates  some  hard 
battles  to  enforce  this  view  of  the  matter.  At  this  very 
day  the  Sheffield  School  is  in  danger  of  losing  grants  from 
the  national  government  amounting  to  $25,000  a  year  be- 
cause of  its  attitude  on  these  points.  The  school  has  for 
more  than  thirty  years  enjoyed  the  appropriations  made 
to  the  State  of  Connecticut  for  the  endowment  of  colleges 
in  agriculture  and  the  mechanic  arts.  Before  the  accept- 
ance of  the  grant  the  college  stated  exactly  what  it  pro- 
posed to  do.  It  furnished  instruction  in  theoretical  princi- 
ples underlying  mechanics  and  agriculture,  and  gave  free 
tuition  to  a  large  number  of  Connecticut  students.  The 
scientific  study  of  agriculture  in  America  may  almost  be 
sanl  to  have  arisen  from  the  work  of  Professor  Johnson 
and  his  co-laborers  at  Yale.  It  was  here  that  the  impulse 
started  which  led  to  the  founding  of  agricultural  experiment 
stations  all  over  the  country.  But  the  agricultural  interests 
are  dissatisfied  because  instruction  is  not  given  in  the  prac- 
tical operations  of  farming.  "With  some  honorable  excep- 
tions, the  farmers  do  not  appreciate  scientific  work  as  the 
mechanics  appreciate  it.  They  want  a  college  to  teach  the 
things  which  farmers  know,  rather  than  those  which  farm- 


GO  FOUR  AMERICAS  VXIYERSITIES 

ers  do  not  know.  The  mechanical  interests,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  eager  for  new  knowledge,  and  have  given  the 
warmest  recognition  to  the  college  for  its  services  in  de- 
veloping it. 

In  its  present  condition  the  Sheffield  Scientific  School 
offers  the  student  a  choice  of  some  seven  courses,  according 
to  the  line  of  work  for  which  the  student  would  prepare 
himself  —  one  for  the  chemist,  one  for  the  biologist,  one 
for  the  civil  engineer,  one  for  the  mechanical  engineer, 
one  for  the  mining  engineer,  one  for  the  agriculturist, 
one  for  the  general  business  man.  But  each  of  these  is 
a  college  course  rather  than  a  purely  professional  one. 
The  Sheffield  students  have  had  in  times  past  and  present 
the  benefit  of  instruction  from  men  "whose  eminence  was 
far  removed  from  the  ordinary  courses  of  applied  science 
— men  like  William  D.  Whitney  or  Thomas  E.  Lounsburv. 
Daniel  C.  Gilman  or  Francis  A.  Walker.  The  scientific 
course  has  led  men  to  their  professions  by  a  shorter  road 
than  the  academic,  and  without  the  study  of  Greek,  but 
it  has  been,  in  its  underlying  principles,  a  collegiate  course 
rather  than  a  technical  one. 

The  separate  existence  of  two  collegiate  departments 
side  bv  side  has  constituted  a  distinguishing  feature  of 
Yale  development.  The  Lawrence  Scientific  School  at 
Harvard  has  never  been  of  anything  like  co-ordinate  im- 
portance with  the  college  proper.  The  schools  of  Mines 
at  Columbia  and  of  Science  at  Cornell  have  made  the  ele- 
ment of  technical  training  more  prominent  than  it  has 
been  at  Yale.  Not  a  few  of  Yale's  friends  have  looked 
at  this  double  collegiate  development  with  regret,  and 
have  believed  that  each  department  suffered  from  the 
lack  of  those  elements  for  which  the  other  was  distin- 


KEAK    OK   THE    CHAPEL 


YALE  UNIVERSITY  63 

guished.  The  Sheffield  Scientific  School,  with  its  inde- 
pendent character  and  freer  methods,  attracted  the  pro- 
gressive elements,  and  left  the  academic  department  in 
constant  danger  of  over  -  conservatism  ;  the  monopoly  by 
the  academic  department  of  traditions,  of  religious  influ- 
ences, and  of  many  of  the  things  that  did  so  much  to 
characterize  college  life,  made  the  course  in  the  scientific 
school  seem  somewhat  imperfect  by  contrast ;  while  Har- 
vard, with  its  fuller  elective  course  and  more  progressive, 
not  to  say  destructive,  spirit,  was  combining  the  freedom 
of  a  scientific  school  with  the  traditions  of  a  college.  The 
two  things  at  Yale  seemed  to  be  drifting  further  and  fur- 
ther apart.  But  within  the  last  twenty  years  a  great 
change  has  taken  place  for  the  better.  It  began  in  1872, 
when  six  representatives  of  the  alumni  were  admitted  to 
a  place  in  the  corporation  of  the  college.  In  itself  this 
change  amounted  to  little,  for  the  clerical  element  in  the 
corporation  was  left  in  a  majority,  and  could  do  anything 
it  chose  without  let  or  hinderance ;  but  it  was  significant 
and  fruitful  in  giving  a  degree  of  publicity  to  the  man- 
agement of  the  college  which  it  had  never  before  pos- 
sessed, and  in  bringing  the  alumni  into  fuller  co-operation 
and  sympathy  with  the  college  government. 

Meantime  a  change  was  going  on  in  the  faculty  as  well 
as  in  the  corporation.  The  administration  of  President 
"Woolsey,  which  terminated  in  1871,  had  borne  the  impress 
of  his  personality  in  every  detail.  A  man  of  tremendous 
force,  first-class  scholarship,  and  high  ideals,  he  had  secured 
fellow-workers  of  the  same  sort,  and  had  infused  the  whole 
college  with  a  spirit  of  thorough  work  and  lofty  aims 
which  has  been  worth  more  to  it  than  anything  else  in  its 
whole  history.     But  President  Woolsey  was  born  before 


1)4  FOUR  AMERICAS   UNIVERSITIES 

the  days  of  modern  science ;  and  though  he  acquainted 
himself  with  its  results,  he  scarcely  sympathized  with  its 
fundamental  spirit.  His  attitude  towards  science  was  not 
unlike  that  of  Sir  George  Cornewall  Lewis  or  Professor 
Jowett ;  and  his  force  of  character  and  purpose  was  so 
great  as  to  hold  the  whole  college  to  his  own  lines  of 
thought.  His  successor  was  a  man  of  less  intensity  of 
purpose,  and  though  conservative  himself,  did  not  keep 
the  work  of  the  college  from  broadening. 

In  1876  the  progressive  element  in  the  academic  faculty 
became  strong  enough  to  begin  the  introduction  of  the 
elective  system  in  Junior  and  Senior  years.  In  1884  it 
was  carried  still  further  —  not  to  the  extent  which  pre- 
vailed at  Harvard,  but  sufficiently  far  to  stimulate  the  in- 
tellectual life  of  the  college  and  increase  the  opportunity 
for  active  work  in  new  lines.  In  ISSti,  with  the  accession 
of  President  Dwight,  the  scientific  school  obtained  its  due 
recognition  as  a  co-ordinate  department  of  the  university, 
and  the  way  was  paved  for  greater  co-operation  between 
the  different  parts  than  had  previously  been  possible. 
Meantime  the  life  of  the  students  in  the  two  schools  had 
become  assimilated  much  more  rapidly  than  the  courses  of 
study.  This  was  chieflj'  due  to  the  increasing  develop- 
ment of  athletics  as  a  factor  in  Yale  life.  When  the  stu- 
dents of  the  two  departments  worked  side  by  side  in  the 
boat,  on  the  diamond,  and  in  the  still  fiercer  character 
school  of  the  foot-ball  field,  no  narrow  traditions  of  college 
life  or  college  association  could  prevent  the  recognition  of 
prowess,  the  formation  of  friendships,  and  the  mutual  in- 
fluence on  character  of  the  men  in  the  two  departments. 

Thus  a  separation,  which  seemed  at  one  time  to  involve 
some  danger  to  the  intellectual  and  social  development  of 


YALE   UNIVERSITY  67 

Yale,  and  to  force  the  students  to  a  choice  between  science 
without  tradition  on  the  one  hand,  or  tradition  without  sci- 
ence on  the  other,  has  proved  in  the  end  a  benefit.  It  has 
enabled  the  university  to  meet  at  once  the  needs  of  those 
who  must  shorten  their  period  of  professional  study  and 
those  who  must  lengthen  it.  To  the  former,  the  Sheffield 
School  offers  a  combination  of  college  life  and  professional 
study  in  a  three  years'  course.  To  the  latter,  the  college 
offers  a  full  four  years'  course,  which  is  but  a  preparation 
for  subsequent  professional  training.  The  separation  fur- 
ther allows  a  freedom  in  the  choice  of  courses  of  study, 
without  that  danger  of  random  election  of  easy  optionals 
against  which  the  Harvard  authorities  have  so  constantly 
been  compelled  to  fight.  It  enables  the  system  of  pre- 
scribed courses  of  study  and  examination  to  be  carried  out 
to  a  very  considerable  degree  without  involving  the  at- 
tempt to  force  all  types  of  intellect  into  one  mould. 

There  is  reason  to  hope  that  the  closer  co-operation 
between  the  college  and  the  scientific  school  is  but  the 
beginning  of  a  similar  tendency  with  respect  to  other  de- 
partments. In  his  championship  of  the  university  idea, 
President  Dwight  has  done  away  with  much  of  the  spirit 
of  isolation  which  once  prevailed.  He  has  a  number  of 
difficulties  to  overcome,  but  the  spirit  of  the  age  is  on  his 
side.  We  know  more  about  the  connection  between  differ- 
ent branches  of  knowledge  than  wTe  did  thirty  years  ago. 
The  process  of  specialization  has  been  accomplished  by  an 
increase  of  mutual  dependence,  and  the  different  depart- 
ments of  the  university  have  come  to  recognize  this.  The 
scientific  school  has  long  had  the  co-operation  of  the  art 
school  in  parts  of  its  instruction.  The  academic  depart- 
ment has  now  begun  to  seek  the  same  co-operation.     In 


68  FuVK  AMERICA.X  UNIVERSITIES 

the  courses  of  graduate  instruction,  students  of  every  de- 
partment, undergraduate  and  professional  alike,  meet  side 
by  side  with  mutual  advantage.  In  all  the  special  schools 
there  have  been  men  —  like  Baldwin  in  Law,  Fisher  in 
Church  History,  or  Weir  in  Art — whose  work  is  as  indis- 
pensable to  the  non-  professional  student  as  to  the  profes- 
sional. The  various  collections,  chiefly  in  the  Peabody 
Museum,  have  a  usefulness  not  bounded  by  the  lines  of 
any  department.  The  work  of  a  paleontologist  like  Marsh, 
or  of  geologists  and  mineralogists  like  the  Danas,  is  not 
for  any  one  class  alone,  but  for  the  whole  scientific  world. 
The  increase  of  laboratory  work,  whether  in  chemistry, 
or  physics,  or  mineralogy,  or  biologjr,  or  ps3rchology,  has 
tended  to  bring  students  of  different  departments  more 
and  more  together ;  and  a  similar  result  is  accomplished 
by  gatherings  like  the  mathematical  club,  the  classical 
club,  the  modern  -  language  club,  the  philosophical  club, 
or  the  political -science  club,  where  undergraduates,  grad- 
uates, professional  students,  and  instructors  meet  on  an 
equal  footing  to  read  and  discuss  papers  on  subjects  of 
common  interest. 

With  university  extension  —  that  is,  with  the  effort  to 
lecture  to  classes  outside  of  the  membership  of  the  uni- 
versity itself — Yale  has  had  little  to  do.  This  is  not  so 
much  from  lack  of  sympathy  with  the  movement  as  from 
lack  of  time  on  the  part  of  the  instructors.  Their  strength 
is  so  fully  occupied  with  the  regular  students  that  they 
have  little  left  to  devote  to  extra  ones.  For  the  same  rea- 
son Yale  has  discouraged  the  attendance  of  "  special  "  stu- 
dents who  are  not  graduates  of  any  college  nor  pursuing 
any  of  the  recognized  courses  for  a  degree.  It  may  be 
occasionally  a  hardship  to  exclude  a  zealous   man  from 


YALE  UNIVERSITY  71 

special  privileges,  but  in  the  majority  of  eases  it  is  a  worse 
hardship  to  allow  a  man  who  has  more  zeal  than  train- 
ing to  take  the  time  of  an  already  overworked  instructor 
from  the  teaching  of  his  regular  students.  If  a  man  (or 
woman)  is  a  college  graduate,  Yale  will  offer  him  what- 
ever facilities  she  has  available.  If  a  man  is  not  a  col- 
lege graduate,  the  rule  is  that  he  must  study  in  one  of 
the  regular  coui'ses  provided  for  the  attainment  of  a  de- 
gree. 

To  the  graduate  of  any  college  Yale  offers  the  choice 
of  more  than  two  hundred  courses  of  instruction.  Twenty- 
four  of  these  are  in  psychology,  ethics,  and  pedagogics  ; 
twenty -nine  in  political  science  and  history;  twenty -six 
in  Oriental  languages  and  Biblical  literature;  thirty -two 
in  classical  philology;  thirty -three  in  modern  languages 
and  literature  ;  forty  in  natural  and  physical  science  ; 
twenty- five  in  mathematics,  pure  and  applied.  Besides 
these,  there  are  courses  in  drawing,  painting,  and  art  his- 
tory, in  music,  and  in  physical  culture.  It  is  a  question 
whether  the  philosophical  department  of  any  university  in 
Germany  offers  as  wide  a  range  of  teaching.  Among  all 
these  courses  the  graduate  has  absolute  freedom  of  choice. 
It  is  assumed  he  knows  what  he  wants,  and  is  able  with 
the  advice  of  his  instructors  to  select  that  which  best  fits 
his  individual  case.  lie  can  study  for  a  degree  or  not, 
exactly  as  he  pleases.  The  Yale  degree  of  Ph.D.  is  not 
given  for  any  defined  course  or  specified  amount  of  work-, 
but  for  high  scientific  attainment,  of  which  evidence  is 
given  by  theses  embodying  original  research. 

Side  by  side  with  the  courses  of  graduate  instruction,  and 
partly  coincident  with  them,  we  have  the  work  of  the  pro- 
fessional schools — in  theology,  law,  medicine,  and  art.     In 


72  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

each  of  these  there  is  a  prescribed  course  of  instruction, 
usually  occupying  three  years,  and  leading  to  a  degree  or 
diploma  at  the  end.     In  the  law  school,  however,  the  de- 
gree of  LL.B.  is  given  at  the  end  of  two  years ;  and  for 
those  who  are  able  to  study  longer,  courses  are  offered  lead- 
ing to  the  degrees  of  M.L.  and  D.C.L.     In  the  theological 
school  nearly  all  the  students  are  college  graduates ;  in  the 
other  professional  schools  the  non-graduates  are  in  the  ma- 
jority.    In  this  last  respect  Yale  is  at  a  disadvantage  as 
compared  with  Harvard  or  Columbia.     The  effort,  which 
the  Columbia  authorities  have  so  successfully  carried  out,  of 
making  the  fourth  year  of  the  college  course  serve  at  the 
same  time  for  the  first  year  of  professional  study,  has  not 
found  its  counterpart  in  Yale.     There  are  several  reasons 
for  this.     In  the  first  place,  the  professional  schools  have 
grown  up  on  an  independent  basis,  and  are  reluctant  to 
sacrifice  any  part  of  the  separate  jurisdiction  which  they 
have  acquired.     In  the  second  place,  the  university  has  no 
large  disposable  endowments  whose  income  can  be  used  in 
smoothing  the  way  for  a  combination.     Every  part  has  to 
work  for  a  living,  and  therefore  has  to  be  left  free  to  get  it 
in  the  best  way  it  can.     Finally,  in  spite  of  all  that  has 
been  done  to  broaden  the  courses  of  instruction,  the  under- 
graduate departments  have  a  separate  life  of  their  own,  and 
an  esprit  de  corps  of  their  own,  which  make  the  problem 
of  fusion  at  Yale  much  harder  than  at  Columbia,  or  even 
at  Harvard.      For  though  the  instruction  of  undergradu- 
ate, graduate,  and  professional  students  is  losing  its  separate 
character,  though  they  meet  in  the  same  laboratories  and 
the  same  lecture-rooms,  nevertheless  there  remains  much  in 
the  social  and  intellectual  life  of  the  several  parts  which 
continues  absolutely  separate.     The  college  remains  a  col- 


THE    OLD    FENCE 


lege,  even  though  it  has  become  part  of  a  university.  A 
striking  instance  of  this  separateness  of  undergraduate  life 
is  seen  in  the  very  slight  effect  produced  by  the  admission 
of  women  as  graduate  students  in  1S92.  It  scarcely  affected 
the  college  life  in  any  definable  way.  For  years  past,  in- 
deed, women  had  been  attending  some  of  the  graduate 
classes  by  individual  arrangement  with  the  instructor,  and 
no  one  had  even  been  troubled  by  it,  It  was  thought  better 
to  recognize  the  position  and  work  of  such  students,  and 
give  them  the  degree  of  Ph.D.  if  they  deserved  it.  Since 
this  recognition  there  are  naturally  a  good  many  more 
women  in  the  graduate  classes  than  there  were  before;  and 
where  graduate  and  undergraduate  instruction  are  coinci- 
dent it  has  resulted  in  their  admission  to  undergraduate 
class-rooms.     But  it  has  not  in  any  sense  encroached  upon 


7C 


FUVR  AMERICA  X  UNIVERSITIES 


the  privacy  of  college  life,  or  affected  the  traditions  con- 
nected with  it.  To  a  man  who  knows  what  college  life 
really  means,  the  recent  action  in  the  graduate  department 
at  Yale  does  not  involve  the  admission  of  women  to  Yale 
College  any  more  than  it  involves  the  admission  of  men  to 
Ynssar  College.  It  rather  involves  an  emphasis  on  the  es- 
sential distinction  between  the  college  life  which  has  been 
developed  by  men  and  women  separately  and  the  univer- 
sitv  work  of  training  specialists,  where  there  need  be  no 
distinction  of  sex. 

The  two  undergraduate  departments  at  Yale  have  certain 
obvious  points  of  difference  from  one  another;  they  have  cer- 
tain less  obvious  but  more  fundamental  points  of  similarity 

which  distinguish  them 
from  the  professional 
schools,  and  even  from 
the  undergraduate  de- 
partment of  a  university 
like  Harvard.  They  dif- 
fer from  one  another  in 
that  the  required  studies 
of  the  "academic"  de- 
partment are  largely 
classical,  while  those  of 
the  Sheffield  School  are 
predominantly  scientific ; 
in  the  fact  that  one  gives 
the  degree  of  B.A.  after 
four  years'  study,  while 
the  other  gives  the  de- 
gree of  B.S.  after  three  years :  and  in  the  fact  that  one  has 
two  years  of  prescribed  work  and  afterwards  a  direct  choice 


SKCLL    AND    HONKS       HALL 


yale  university  79 

of  electives,  while  the  other  has  one  year  of  prescribed  work 
and  afterwards  a  choice  of  courses  or  groups  of  study,  in- 
stead of  individual  studies.  They  also  differ  in  the  fact  that 
the  academic  department  has  the  dormitory  system  devel- 
oped in  a  high  degree,  while  the  scientific  school  does  not ; 
so  that  the  facult}'  of  the  former  is  obliged  to  take  greater 
oversight  over  the  conduct  of  its  students  than  is  the  case 
with  the  latter.  But  both  departments  are  alike  in  requiring 
from  their  students  a  high  degree  of  regularity  as  to  at- 
tendance and  continuous  stud}'.  The  constant  pressure  to 
work  is  not  only  much  stricter  than  in  the  graduate  or  pro- 
fessional schools,  but  stricter  than  in  the  undergraduate 
department  of  Harvard  or  Princeton  or  almost  any  Ameri- 
can college.  Harvard  is  strict  about  her  degrees  and  lax 
about  the  previous  course  of  her  students.  If  a  man  has 
been  idle  for  four  years  he  will  lose  his  "degree.  Yale,  on 
the  other  hand,  has  no  room  for  idlers  in  her  elective  halls. 
Her  facilities  are  so  far  overcrowded  that  every  bad  man 
elbows  a  good  man  out  of  place.  She  has  no  room  for 
the  vast  number  of  "special"  students  —  a  few  of  them 
deserving,  the  majority  incompetent  —  who  clamor  for  en- 
trance at  every  large  university.  A  man  must  pass  certain 
examinations  or  he  cannot  enter  Yale.  He  must  be  regu- 
lar in  his  attendance  or  he  will  be  sent  home.  He  must 
maintain  a  certain  standard  of  scholarship  or  he  will  be 
"  dropped."  This  stringenc}7  of  requirement  is  the  heritage 
which  Yale  has  received  from  President  Woolsey  and  the 
group  of  men  who  worked  under  him.  However  much  the 
undergraduate  may  chafe  under  it  or  rebel  against  it,  it  is 
this  which  makes  college  life  and  college  reputation  what 
it  is.  No  body  of  young  men,  left  to  go  their  several  ways, 
good  or  bad,  will  work  out  the  mass  of  college  traditions 


80  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

and  college  sentiments  which  help  to  mould  and  make  a 
man  in  a  wa}7  that  mere  book  study  can  never  do. 

There  is  no  room  in  an  article  like  this  to  describe  these 
college  traditions  and  customs  in  detail;  nor  are  the  asso- 
ciations that  gather  round  the  Fence,  or  "Mory's,"  or  the 
( )ld  Brick  Row.  of  a  kind  which  can  readily  be  reproduced 
in  black  and  white.  Every  college  graduate  must  fill  the 
picture  out  for  himself.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  special 
characteristic  of  Yale  life  which  has  distinguished  it  from 
other  colleges  has  been  a  keener  intensity  of  competition 
than  exists  almost  anywhere  else.  It  shows  itself  in  every 
form  of  effort  —  literary  and  athletic,  political  and  social. 
For  a  few  coveted  positions  on  the  college  journals  there 
are  dozens  of  men  toiling  months  or  years  to  offer  the  best 
essays  or  stories  or  reports  of  current  events.  For  a  few 
positions  of  honor  on  the  athletic  teams  there  are  hundreds 
of  men  running  their  regular  courses  of  exercise,  and  filling 
the  sidewalks  of  New  Haven  with  costumes  calculated  to 
strike  the  stranger  aghast.  And  so  in  every  department  of 
college  life.  The  contest  takes  its  keenest  and  perhaps  most 
questionable  form  in  connection  with  the  secret-society  sys- 
tem. The  societies  of  the  academic  department  at  Yale 
differ  from  those  of  most  other  colleges  in  not  running- 
through  the  course,  but  changing  in  successive  years  of 
study.  No  man  who  is  ambitious  for  college  success  can 
afford  to  rest  on  his  laurels  in  the  earlier  years  of  his  course. 
An  election  to  one  of  the  societies  of  Sophomore  or  Junior 
year  is  chiefly  thought  of  as  a  stepping-stone  towards  the 
higher  honor  of  election  into  the  narrower  circle  of  "  Skull 
and  Bones,"  "  Scroll  and  Key,"  or  "  Wolfs  Head."  As  the 
time  for  Senior-society  elections  draws  nigh,  the  suspense 
on  the  part  of  the  candidates  becomes  really  terrible.   When 


YALE  UNIVEBS1TY  83 

the  afternoon  of  election  finally  arrives,  the  scene  is  perhaps 
the  most  dramatic  in  college  life.  There  is  a  crowd  gath- 
ered on  the  campus — all  interested,  and  some  fearfully  so. 
One  Senior  after  another  appears  from  the  different  society 
halls,  and  silently  seeks  his  man  amid  the  throng.  At  last 
he  finds  him ;  a  tap  on  the  shoulder  sends  a  Junior  to  his 
room  on  what  is  probably  the  happiest  walk  he  has  ever 
taken  ;  there  is  a  moment's  burst  of  applause  from  the 
crowd,  varying  in  intensity  according  to  the  popularity  of 
the  man  chosen,  but  always  given  with  good-will,  and  then 
every  one  relapses  into  anxious  expectation,  until  the  whole 
series  of  elections  has  been  given  out.  On  the  whole,  the 
Senior-society  choices  are  given  with  conscientious  fairness. 
There  are  mistakes  made,  sometimes  bad  ones,  especially 
mistakes  of  omission;  but  they  are  as  a  rule  bona  fide  mis- 
takes of  judgment,  and  not  the  results  of  personal  unfriend- 
liness or  chicane.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  wire-pulling 
among  those  who  hope  to  receive  the  honor,  but  surprising, 
ly  little  among  those  who  are  to  award  it.  Opinions  differ 
as  to  the  merits  of  the  Yale  society  system ;  but  there  can 
be  no  question  that  it  is  a  characteristic  product  of  Yale 
life,  with  its  intensity  of  effort,  its  high  valuation  of  college 
judgments  and  college  successes,  and  its  constant  tension, 
which  will  allow  no  one  to  rest  within  himself,  but  makes 
him  a  part  of  the  community  in  which  he  dwells. 

Can  Yale  keep  these  characteristics  unimpaired  amid  in- 
creasing numbers  of  students  and  increasing  complexity  of 
outside  demands  ?  Can  it  preserve  its  distinctive  features  as 
a  college  in  the  midst  of  its  widening  work  as  a  university  ? 
Can  it  meet  the  varying  intellectual  necessities  of  modern 
life  without  sacrificing  the  democratic  traditions  which  have 
had  so  strong  an  influence  upon  character  ?     Can  it  give  the 


B4  FOUR  AMERICAN   US1VERS1TIES 

special  education  which  the  community  asks  without  endan- 
gering the  broader  education  which  has  produced  genera- 
tions of  "all  round"  men,  trained  morally  as  well  as  intel- 
lectually ?  These  are  questions  which  every  large  college 
has  to  face.  They  are  not  peculiar  to  Yale.  If  Yale  feels 
their  difficulty  most,  it  is  because  she  is  the  largest  repre- 
sentative of  the  traditional  American  college  idea,  which 
Harvard  has,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  abandoned. 

The  difficulty  is  enhanced  by  several  factors  outside  of  the 
educational  sphere.  In  the  first  place,  the  demands  of  mod- 
ern life  make  teaching  more  expensive.  There  are  more 
things  to  teach,  and  therefore  there  is  need  of  more  men, 
while  in  each  line  there  is  more  competition  for  the  services 
of  first-rate  men,  both  inside  and  outside  the  teaching  pro- 
fession. The  day  has  passed  when  college  professors  formed 
a  class  by  themselves,  who  would  not  or  could  not  engage 
in  work  elsewhere.  With  the  increasing  study  of  science  in 
its  various  forms  there  has  come  increased  contact  between 
university  life  and  business  life.  The  scientific  man  can 
often,  if  not  generally,  make  more  money  by  expert  work 
than  by  teaching;  and  under  such  circumstances  it  is  not 
always  easy  for  the  university  to  retain  his  services.  The 
social  demands  upon  the  professors  have  taken  a  different 
shape  from  what  they  had  forty  years  ago.  Plain  living 
and  high  thinking  is  no  longer  the  ideal  of  professional  suc- 
cess in  any  line.  Under  these  circumstances  a  college  with 
limited  funds  finds  it  hard  to  secure  enough  men  of  the  right 
kind.  The  increase  in  the  number  of  students  enhances 
rather  than  lessens  the  difficulty.  Additional  students  are 
often  a  source  of  expense  rather  than  of  profit.  Teaching 
is  not  a  work  which  can  be  performed  by  wholesale.  No 
teacher,  not  even  the  most  talented,  can  do  for  a  class  of 


STATUE    OF    ABRAHAM    PIKIWON 


YALE   UNIVERSITY  87 

one  hundred  what  he  would  do  for  a  class  of  ten.  Each  in- 
crease of  numbers  makes  it  all  the  more  difficult  to  avoid 
the  danger  of  having  the  class  too  large,  or  the  instructor 
too  small ;  nor  is  an  increase  of  tuition  fees  to  be  thought 
of  except  as  a  last  resort. 

Side  by  side  with  this  difficulty  comes  a  still  greater  dan- 
ger, in  the  effect  of  modern  life  on  the  students  themselves. 
While  the  standard  of  life  throughout  the  community  was 
simple,  there  was  every  chance  for  the  democratic  spirit  of 
equality  to  assert  itself.     The  difference  between  what  the 
rich  student  and  the  poor  student  could  command  was  com- 
paratively slight.     It  was  at  most  a  difference  in  rooms  and 
in  food,  in  dress  and  in  comforts  — differences  which  the 
healthy  public  sentiment  of  a  college  could  afford  to  disre- 
gard.    But  to-day  there  are  differences  between  rich  and 
poor  which  no  one  can  wholly  despise,  even  though  he  may 
respect  the  poor  man  more  than  his  rich  companion.     Each 
complication  of  social  life  inside  and  outside  of  the  college 
creates  a  reason  for  legitimate  expenditure  of  money,  which 
prevents  the  poor  man  from  feeling  an  absolute  equality 
with  the  rich.    The  problem  of  lessening  college  expenses  is 
one  of  vital  importance  for  the  future  of  American  college 
life,  and  is  perhaps  the  most  serious  difficulty  with  which 
the  members  of  the  Yale  faculty  have  to  contend. 

But  in  meeting  these  difficulties  Yale  has  certain  marked 
and  strong  advantages.  To  begin  with,  all  the  traditions  of 
Yale's  social  life  work  in  the  direction  of  valuing  men  for 
their  character  rather  than  their  money  or  their  antece- 
dents. Though  the  college  standard  of  character  may  be 
imperfect,  and  though  college  sentiment  may  tolerate  wrong 
methods  of  study,  and  evasions  in  dealing  with  the  authori- 
ties, the  general  fact  remains  that,  such  as  the  standards  are, 


88 


FOUR  AMERICAN  UXiyESSITIES 


they  are  applied  vig- 
orously and  impar- 
tially ;  that  there  is 
a  respect  for  work 
and  a  respect  for 
unselfishness — a  re- 
spect for  all  that 
constitutes  a  gen- 
tleman in  the  best 
sense — that  renders 
futile  any  attempt 
to  make  money  take 
the  place  of  charac- 
ter, or  social  antece- 
dents take  the  place 
of  social  qualities. 

Those  who 
thought  that  the 
democratic  spirit  of 
Yale  was  bound  up 
with  the  Spartan 
simplicity  of  the 
Old  Brick  Eow 
have  been  happily 
disappointed.  The  gifts  of  Farnam  and  Durfee,  of  Law- 
rence and  White,  of  Welch  and  Vanderbilt,  have  provided  the 
students  with  larger  comforts  without  distorting  their  moral 
standards.  Thei'e  are  parts  of  the  secret  -  society  system 
which  are  in  more  or  less  constant  danger  of  becoming  rich 
men's  cliques  and  undermining  the  democratic  spirit ;  but 
there  is  every  reason  to  hope*  that  this  danger  will  be  suc- 
cessfully resisted  in  the  future,  as  it  has  been  in  the  past. 


OBSERVATORY 


YALE  UNIVERSITY 


89 


The  development  of  college  athletics  has  been  of  great 
service  in  counteracting  some  of  the  dangerous  tendencies 
of  the  day.  Open  to  criticism  as  athletics  may  be  for  their 
unnecessary  expense,  for  the  betting  which  goes  on  in  con- 
nection with  them,  and  for  the  distorted  views  which  they 
encourage  as  to  the  relative  importance  of  different  things 
in  life,  they  yet  have  a  place  in  education  which  is  of  over- 
whelming importance.  The  physical  training  which  they 
involve,  good  as  it  may  be,  is  but  a  small  part  of  the  benefit 
achieved.  The  moral  training  is  greater.  "Where  scores  of 
men  are  working  hard  for  athletic  honor,  and  hundreds 
more  are  infected  by  their  spirit,  the  moral  force  of  such  an 
emulation  is  not  to  be  despised.  Critics  may  object,  and  do 
object,  that  athletic  prowess  is  unduly  exalted,  and  that  it 
involves  distortion  of 
facts  to  rate  the  best 
football  -  player  o  r 
best  oarsman  higher 
than  the  best  scholar 
or  best  debater.  But 
the  critic  is  not 
wholly  right  in  this. 
There  is  a  disposition 
in  the  college  world 
to  recognize  in  the 
highest  degree  any- 
thing which  redounds 
to  the  credit  of  the 
college.  Let  a  stu- 
dent write  something 
which  brings  honor  to 
his  college,   whether 


'SCROLL   AND    KKT  "    1I.1LI. 


90  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

in  science  or  literature,  and  there  is  no  limit  to  the  recogni- 
tion he  receives  from  his  fellows.  Let  a  football-player 
strive  to  win  glory  for  himself  instead  of  for  his  college, 
and  his  fellows  have  no  use  for  him.  "What  the  critic  deems 
to  be  preference  for  the  body  over  the  mind  is  in  no  small 
measure  preference  for  collective  aims  over  individual  ones. 
It  may  be  a  short-sighted  view  of  the  matter  to  think  of 
the  high-stand  man  as  working  for  himself,  and  the  athlete 
as  working  for  his  college.  Yet  it  is  one  which  contains  a 
large  element  of  truth ;  and  the  honor  paid  to  college  ath- 
letes is  based  on  a  healthful  recognition  of  this  half-truth 
which  the  ci'itic  so  often  overlooks. 

Athletics,  if  properly  managed,  have  still  another  moral 
advantage  in  training  the  students  to  honor  a  non-com- 
mercial standard  of  success.  In  these  days,  when  the 
almighty  dollar  counts  for  so  much,  this  training  is  of  first- 
rate  importance.  Of  course  athletics  maj'  be  so  managed  as 
to  be  worse  than  useless  in  this  respect.  The  least  taint  of 
professionalism,  however  slight,  destroys  the  whole  good ; 
the  growth  of  betting  endangers  it.  Yale  has  by  constant 
effort  kept  clear  of  professionalism,  and  much  of  her  suc- 
cess in  athletics  has  been  due  to  this  fact.  Betting  is 
harder  to  deal  with,  and  constitutes  a  real  evil,  but  not  one 
for  which  athletics  is  so  directly  responsible  as  many  people 
assume.  On  the  whole,  as  athletics  have  been  managed  at 
Yale  under  the  constant  advice  of  the  alumni,  and  without 
either  fear  or  favor  from  the  faculty,  they  have  done  great 
good  and  little  harm,  both  physically  and  morally. 

If  there  is  danger  of  distorted  sense  of  proportion  among 
the  students,  it  is  to  be  remedied  not  by  less  encouragement 
to  athletics,  but  by  more  encouragement  to  study.  Yale 
emphatically  needs   more  money   for   teaching   purposes. 


YALE   UNIVERSITY  91 

Gifts  of  dormitories  have  done  good  ;  gifts  like  those  for  the 
Peabod\T  Museum,  for  the  Kent,  and  Sloane  laboratories,  for 
lecture -halls  like  Osborn  and  "Winchester,  have  done  still 
more  good;  but  they  are  wholly  inadequate  to  meet  the 
public  demands.  So  fast  have  the  numbers  grown  that 
there  is  to-day  not  a  lecture-hall  in  Yale  College  which  will 
accommodate  all  the  students  who  want  to  take  a  single 
course  of  instruction,  much  less  a  laboratory  which  will  give 
the  room  needed  for  the  study  of  chemistry  to  all  who  ask 
it.  Whatever  can  be  done  in  the  way  of  educational  de- 
velopment without  money  or  with  limited  money  Yale  is 
trying  to  do.  Her  success  is  attested  by  her  growth  in 
numbers  and  public  recognition,  and  yet  more  by  the  un- 
swerving loyalty  of  her  members  in  every  capacity. 


PPv I N CETO N    U X IV E 1? SIT Y 


Ill 


^PINIONS  vary  about  the  character  and  value  of 
life  in  the  various  great  districts  into  which  cli- 
mate, race,  and  other  factors  divide  the  domain 
of  the  United  States,  but  not  about  the  existence 
of  different  characteristics.  There  was  once  an  enterprising 
"educator"  who  located  his  university,  as  he  extensively 
advertised,  "midway  between  the  North  and  the  South,  the 
East  and  the  West,"  that  he  might  secure  the  advantages 
of  all  the  cardinal  virtues  in  their  totality  for  his  nursling. 
But  the  points  of  the  compass  and  the  essential  features  of 
the  three  or  four  great  zones  into  which  our  country  natu- 
rally falls  alike  refuse  to  blend.  Fortunate  land  if  only 
sufficient  difference  persists  to  prevent  the  stagnation  of 
perfect  homogeneity  !  To  be  cosmopolitan  in  character  is 
in  our  time  to  be  commonplace.  So  far  the  older,  pre-rev- 
olutionary  colleges  of  America  have  escaped  this  reproach ; 
the  new-comers  are  still  too  young  to  declare  a  settled  and 
mature  individuality. 

Princeton  therefore  accepts  with  gladness  the  place  so 
often  assigned  her  as  a  type,  and  finds  honor  in  leading 
and  guiding  a  great  cohort  to  the  warfare  which  sound 
education  makes  the  condition  of  its  favor.  In  a  land 
where  the  conditions  of  overgrown,  self  -  conceited,  and 
boisterous  youth  prevail  as  they  do  in  ours,  there  are  but 


9(5  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

two  barriers  against  a  relapse  into  barbarism  —  morality 
and  intelligence  ;  these,  of  course,  are  both  included  in  the 
highest  education,  and  the  former  is  synonymous,  except 
for  the  generation  or  two  which  discards  the  motive  power 
of  faith  and  runs  by  inertia,  with  religion.  But  within  the 
limits  of  so  broad  a  generalization  there  is  abundant  room 
for  wide  divergence  in  detail.  "While  it  is  to  be  hoped  that 
all  the  great  universities  seek  the  same  treasure,  they  vary 
widely  in  their  traits  and  in  their  methods.  The  interac- 
tion between  them  is  very  constant,  and  develops  strong 
personality.  Students  and  their  advisers  are  instinctively, 
though  often  not  consciously,  aware  of  it,  and  in  general 
the  patronage  of  each  seat  of  learning  corresponds  to  its 
historic  development. 

The  divergence  of  opinions  at  New  Haven  which  led  to 
the  foundation,  in  1746,  of  Princeton  was  in  some  respects 
but  another  manifestation  of  the  essential  difference  be- 
tween Puritan  and  Covenanter.  They  were  always  har- 
monious enough  in  the  presence  of  a  common  danger,  but. 
whether  in  the  mother-land  or  in  America,  they  were  also 
sufficiently  divided  by  race  and  instinct  to  seek  divergent 
paths  in  the  absence  of  pressure  from  without.  Accord- 
ingly a  place  was  chosen  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Middle 
States,  as  they  then  were  the  focus  of  the  Scotch  and 
Scotch-Irish  life,  which  was  destined  to  transform  itself  into 
that  pure  Americanism  which  has  been  in  evidence  from 
the  days  of  the  Mecklenburg  declai'ation  until  the  present. 
To  this  influence  was  associated  two  very  potent  ones 
with  neither  Scotch  nor  Scotch -Irish  blood,  namely,  that 
of  the  English  Quakers  on  one  side,  and  that  of  the  neigh- 
boring Dutch  to  the  north  and  the  northwest  on  the 
other.     The  catholicitv,  therefore,  of  the  college   was  as 


naxcETOx  vm yehmty 


97 


characteristic  in  its  foundation  as  it  has  been  in  its  history, 
especially  as  four  of  the  first  board  of  trustees  were  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  of  England.  And  so,  at  the  suggestion 
of  the  colonial  Governor,  Belcher,  the  first  great  structure 
was  christened  Nassau  Hall,  after  William  III.,  "  of  glori- 
ous memory."    Just  as  the  New  England  of  the  last  centu- 


FRANCIS   L.  PATTON 


ry  now  stretches  westward  within  the  northern  line  of 
States  to  the  Pacific,  the  Middle  States  have  kept  their 
relative  size  and  influence  in  the  broad  band  of  common- 
wealths which  they  have  either  populated  entirely  or  share 
with  men  of  New  England  origin  across  the  Mississippi 
Valley  and  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Golden  Gate. 
7 


98  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

While  the  Princeton,  which  is  still  in  New  Jersey,  does 
not  equal  in  numbers  the  Yale  in  New  Haven  or  the  Har- 
vard in  Cambridge,  she  does  not  yield  to  them  in  her 
wider  influence,  for  she  has  been  the  mother  of  many 
colleges,  about  twenty -five  directly  and  indirectly,  which 
are  now  scattered  from  Khode  Island  —  for  Brown  Uni- 
versity is  in  a  sense  her  daughter  —  to  California.*  Many 
of  these  have  long  since  put  off  all  tutelage  to  become 
centres  of  independent  influence,  but  there  is  a  sense  in 
which  with  their  parent  they  belong  to  one  system  and 
represent  one  definite  aim.  The  bonds  of  friendship  with 
New  England  have  never  been  severed,  they  have  rather 
been  strengthened  by  separation,  and  knit  firmer  in  the 
interaction  of  systems  sufficiently  different  to  foster  indi- 
viduality, but  enough  alike  to  cherish  in  each  respect  and 
admiration  for  the  other.  On  the  other  side  her  relations 
with  the  South  have  been  close  and  intimate.  The  history 
of  the  southern  Atlantic  and  Gulf  States  might  almost  be 
written  in  the  biographies  of  Princeton  graduates.  In 
proof  of  this  we  have  but  to  recall  names  like  those  of 


*  The  following  are  some  of  the  colleges  founded  by  Princeton  men 
or  under  Princeton  auspices  :  Brown  University,  Union  College  ;  Ham- 
ilton College,  which  sprang  out  of  Hamilton  Oneida  Academy,  founded 
by  Rev.  Samuel  Kirkland,  but  was  organized  as  a  college  under  the  au- 
spices of  Yale;  Washington  College,  Pennsylvania;  Jefferson  College, 
Pennsylvania;  Washington-Lee  University,  which  was  first  Liberty  Hall, 
then  Washington  College,  and  is  now  as  above;  Hampden -Sidney  Col- 
lege; Washington  College,  Tennessee  ;  Greenville  College,  Tennessee  ;  the 
University  of  North  Carolina ;  Winsborough  College,  South  Carolina  ;  the 
University  of  Georgia  ;  the  University  of  Ohio;  Cumberland  University, 
Tennessee  ;  Austin  College,  Texas  ;  the  University  of  Cincinnati ;  Wash- 
ington College,  Indiana  ;  Transylvania  University,  Kentucky.  For  the 
others,  facts  sufficient  to  justify  publication  are  not  in  the  author's  pos- 
session. 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY 


99 


James  Madison,  Ephraim  Brevard,  Gunning  Bedford  ;  of 
the  Lees,  Bayards,  Dabneys,  Davies,  Pendletons,  Breckin- 
ridges,  Caldwells,  Crawfords,  Baches,  Hagers,  and  Johns ; 
and  many  others  which  shine  in  the  pages  of  Princeton 
history.  It  was  her  arduous  labor,  moreover,  which  de- 
stroyed the  virus  of  French  influence  in  Southern  educa- 
tion, inoculated  as  it  was  into  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas 
by  Quesnay's  scheme  of  a  French  Academy  and  by  Jeffer- 
son's sympathy.  It  was  likewise  through  the  teaching  of 
her  sons  that  religious  tolerance  was  secured  in  Southern 
colonies  dominated  by  the  English  Church. 

Princeton,  moreover,  stands  second  to  none  of  our  Amer- 
ican colleges  in  the  part  her  graduates  have  played  in  the 
general  history  of  the  United  States.     Her  roll  of  fame  is 


JAMES    McCOSH,  D.D.,  LL.D. 


100  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

long  in  proportion  to  her  numbers.  It  would  be  a  waste 
of  space  to  enumerate  names,  but  she  has  given  to  her 
country  nine  of  the  fifteen  college  graduates  who  sat  in 
the  Constitutional  Convention,  one  President,  two  Vice- 
Presidents,  four  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court  —  one  a 
Chief  Justice  —  five  Attorney- Generals,  and  fifteen  other 
cabinet  officers,  twenty -eight  Governors  of  States,  a  hun- 
dred and  seventy -one  Senators  and  Congressmen,  a  hun- 
dred and  thirty-six  judges,  forty-three  college  presidents, 
and  upwards  of  two  hundred  professors,  half  of  whom 
have  been  appointed  since  Dr.  McCosh  became  President.  . 
It  is  a  safe  assertion,  therefore,  that  in  the  Middle  and 
Southern  States  no  single  educational  influence  has  been 
as  powerful  as  that  of  Princeton. 

Her  relation  to  the  history  of  the  United  States  stands 
visibly  embodied  in  Nassau  Hall,  the  most  historic  college 
or  university  building  in  America.  When  first  completed 
it  was  visited  by  travellers  as  the  largest  building  then  in 
the  colonies.  Within,  the  walls  of  this  now  venerable  and 
still  stately  pile  were  quartered  the  troops  of  contending 
British  and  Americans  in  the  Kevolutionary  war.  The 
Continental  Congress  used  it  for  their  sittings  when  driven 
from  Philadelphia,  and  adjourned  in  17S3  to  attend  the 
college  Commencement  in  a  body.  Its  walls  still  bear  the 
imprints  of  the  cannon-balls  used  in  the  battle  of  Prince- 
ton, and  on  them  hangs  a  portrait  of  Washington,  painted 
by  Peale.  It  was  paid  for  with  the  money  given  as  a  per- 
sonal gift  by  the  former  for  the  use  of  the  building  by  his 
troops,  and  fills  the  frame  which  once  contained  the  effigy 
of  George  II. 

Nine  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  fre- 
quented  its  halls  —  two  were  graduates,  and   three  were 


NASSAU    HALL 


officers  of  the  corporation  which  controlled  it  —  and  its 
windows  blazed  with  light  in  a  grand  illumination  when 
the  news  of  the  sio-nin^  reached  the  town.  Aaron  Burr 
studied  in  its  class-rooms,  and  his  body  was  borne  from  its 
walls  to  the  neighboring  graveyard. 

For  all  these  reasons,  therefore —  her  age,  her  history, 
her  leadership  in  founding  colleges  throughout  the  South 
and  middle  West,  and  in  furnishing  them  with  professors, 
the  distinctive  character  of  her  education,  and  the  relation 
she  bears  to  one  of  the  three  great  race  elements  which 
have  combined  in  our  aboriginal  and  primitive  American- 
ism— Princeton  asserts  a  position  among  the  foremost  uni- 
versities of  America,  and  struggles  to  fulfil  the  solemn 

7* 


102  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

duties  of  a  vanguard  in  the  development  of  a  certain  type 
of  life,  manners,  and  thought. 

How  far  she  is  justified  in  the  hope  that  her  future  will 
shine  with  greater  lustre  than  her  past  can  only  be  shown 
in  an  account  of  her  equipment  and  the  plan  of  education 
to  which  she  adheres.  The  corporate  title  is  the  College 
of  New  Jersey,  and  in  that  State  lies  the  town  of  Prince- 
ton, midway  on  the  old  King's  Highway,  which  became 
later  the  stage  route  between  Xew  York  and  Philadelphia 
— the  two  great  cities  which  so  far  outstrip  all  others  of 
the  Middle  States  in  intelligence,  wealth,  and  population. 
The  village  lies  on  the  first  swell  of  the  foot-hills  which 
develop  into  the  Appalachian  range.  The  university  build- 
ings stand  in  a  commanding  line  along  the  crest  of  this 
ridge,  overlooking  to  the  southward  the  farmsteads,  or- 
chards, and  fertile  fields  which  fill  the  horizon  as  it 
stretches  away  in  green  billows  to  the  sea.  The  soil  of 
the  township  is  loam  underlaid  by  sand  and  gravel,  and 
thus  the  inhabitants  enjoy  good  natural  drainage,  ample 
water  supply,  a  fruitful  husbandry,  and  a  mild  and  genial 
climate.  The  nearer  view  caught  by  the  approaching  trav- 
eller, and  the  more  distant  one  from  the  windows  of  the  ex- 
press trains  which  hurry  by  three  miles  to  the  south,  alike 
display  a  scene  of  rural  beauty  and  rich  landscape  which 
recalls  Gray's  familiar  lines  on  a  distant  view  of  Eton. 

The  effect  of  this  central  position  upon  the  organic  life  of 
the  college  with  its  correlated  and  affiliated  schools  has  been 
marked  throughout  her  history.  She  has  never  been  slack  in 
her  duty  to  her  own  State,  whose  leaders  in  politics  and  the 
Church  have  largely  been  trained  by  her ;  but  she  has  been 
from  the  beginning  unprovincial  to  a  very  high  degree,  as 
the  introductory  remarks  to  this  sketch  abundantly  prove. 


Il   <^&$*^u*'' 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  105 

While  endowed  and  wisely  ruled  by  a  corporation  the  ma- 
jority of  which  consisted  of  men  of  one  State  and  one  de- 
nomination, yet  the  minority  has  been  most  influential 
throughout,  and  her  advantages  of  site  and  studies  have 
drawn  to  her  lecture-rooms  since  the  beginning  men  from 
each  metropolis,  from  all  the  States,  and  from  every  re- 
ligious sect.  The  ease  of  access  to  Princeton  —  and  once 
in  a  lifetime  every  American,  several  times  in  each  year 
many  Americans,  pass  between  the  commercial  and  political 
capitals  of  the  land— will  always  insure  her  against  narrow- 
ness either  in  creed  or  clientage.  On  the  other  hand,  her 
peaceful  home  amid  groves  and  lawns  and  gardens  will  al- 
ways assure  the  "  atmosphere  of  peaceful  studies,''  so  diffi- 
cult to  create  elsewhere  than  in  the  repose  of  a  country 
neighborhood. 

It  is  well  known  that  Princeton  has  no  School  of  Medi- 
cine, though  she  has  a  thoroughly  equipped  School  of  Biol- 
ogy. She  has  had  and  will  almost  certainly  have  again  a 
School  of  Law.  The  School  of  Theology  is  closely  allied, 
but  has  not  the  same  corporate  relation  to  the  university 
as  the  divinity  schools  of  Yale  and  Harvard,  which,  either 
wholly  or  partly,  are  free  from  denominational  control.  It 
is,  however,  the  largest  in  the  land,  and  independent  and 
autonomous  as  it  is,  has  an  identical  moral  force  as  regards 
the  completeness  of  university  life  in  the  academic  character 
of  Princeton.  For  our  purposes,  therefore,  and  under  these 
reservations,  we  shall  use  the  caption  at  the  head  of  this 
article  inclusively.  All  told,  but  excluding  the  residences  of 
professors,  there  are  in  the  town  thirty -nine  completed 
buildings  devoted  to  educational  purposes. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  arrangement  of  this  great 
number  of  edifices,  most  of  them  large  and  commodious, 


106  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

many  of  them  very  costly  and  architecturally  admirable, 
while  presenting  a  splendid  front  to  the  street,  is  otherwise 
the  result  of  hazard  and  caprice.  At  least  that  is  the  effect 
produced  by  the  commixture  of  a  series  of  plans  formed 
under  successive  boards  of  trustees,  with  varying  notions  of 
the  ultimate  size  of  the  college.  Nature  alone  has  forced 
the  semblance  of  a  plan  by  the  conformation  and  contour  of 
the  grassy  expanses  which  they  fill.  Another  element  of 
unity  is  the  material  of  which  most  are  constructed,  a  dur- 
able brownish  sandstone,  soft  in  color  and  variegated  in 
tints,  which  comes  from  quarries  either  close  at  hand  or  at 
no  great  distance,  near  either  Newark  or  Trenton.  But  the 
general  effect  is  the  pleasing  one  of  order  in  disorder,  and 
the  splendid  trees  and  rich  lawns  form  a  kind  of  solvent,  in 
which  the  virtues  of  each  ingredient  appear  perhaps  at 
their  best. 

First  to  be  mentioned  of  that  which  these  buildino-s  con- 

O 

tain  are  the  libraries,  which  number  in  the  aggregate  a  hun- 
dred and  sixty-six  thousand  volumes,  excluding  pamphlets, 
and  which  by  the  liberality  of  their  management  and  gen- 
erous gifts  to  their  funds  constitute  in  a  high  sense  the 
focus  of  academic  life  in  Princeton.  As  far  as  statistics 
have  been  available,  it  is  believed  that  the  number  of  vol- 
umes distributed  to  readers  is  a  trifle  larger  in  proportion 
than  anywhere  else.  There  are  also  five  museums ;  namely, 
of  the  History  of  Art,  of  Geology  and  Paleontology,  of 
Comparative  Anatomy  and  Natural  History,  of  Mineralogy, 
and  of  Biblical  Antiquities.  The  first  three  of  these  have 
large  buildings,  provided  with  galleries,  lecture-rooms,  and 
workshops.  There  are  two  astronomical  observatories,  one 
of  which  contains  the  great  equatorial  of  twenty -three 
inches'  aperture,  and  all  the  appurtenances  of  such  a  splen- 


rmxcEro.x  uxiveihhty 


107 


did  instrument  on  a  proportional  scale ;  the  other  is  the  ob- 
servatory of  instruction,  fully  equipped  with  a  nine-and-a- 
half-inch  equatorial,  with  reflecting  telescopes,  transits,  prime 
vertical,  chronograph,  and  a  computation-room,  all  devoted 
entirely  to  the  use  of  students.  Besides  these,  there  are  the 
usual  laboratories,  physical,  chemical,  mineralogical,  psycho- 
logical, and  biological,  all  on  a  scale  which  has  been  ample 
until  within  five  years.  To  meet  new  demands  they  have 
recently  been  nearly  doubled  as  to  accommodation,  and  fit- 
ted with  the  most  perfect  apparatus.  There  are  in  addition 
recitation-rooms  and  amphitheatres  of  various  sizes — suffi- 
cient in  all  for  the  instniction  of  a  thousand  students  —  a 
speech  hall,  and  the  handsome  new  buildings  of  the  large 
and  flourishing  literary  societies.  We  have  been  recalling, 
of  course,  only  structures  devoted  entirely  to  strictly  educa- 
tional aims.  There  are  in  connection  with  them  the  splen- 
did Alexander  Hall,  which  is  a  theatre  for  commencement 


■< 


2  IT 

ilk* 


'    affix 


THE    HAI.STEO    OBSERVATORY 


108  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

exercises  and  other  public  functions,  the  handsome  Mar- 
quand  Chapel,  the  hall  of  the  religious  association,  the  gym- 
nasium, and  eleven  dormitories,  with  chambers  for  about 
seven  hundred  students.  But  these  also,  like  those  of  the 
other  class,  are  entirely  inadequate  to  even  the  present  wants 
of  the  university.  To  preserve  that  precious  collegiate  life 
which  once  characterized  all  institutions  of  the  higher  learn- 
ing in  the  United  States,  and  which  still  survives  in  perfect 
development  in  Princeton,  there  must  be  new  and  larger 
dormitories,  or,  better  still,  hostels  or  inns  or  colleges,  what- 
ever they  should  be  called,  which  would  attract  to  their  walls 
men  of  similar  tastes  and  standing,  and  under  the  careful 
supervision  of  the  university  give  their  inmates  food  as  well 
as  lodging. 

It  will  no  doubt  astonish  many  to  know  that  the  cause 
of  Princeton's  reticence  as  to  her  money  affairs  has  not 
been  clue  to  opulence.  It  is  true  that  the  munificence  of 
her  patrons  and  benefactors  for  the  last  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury has  been  a  superb  illustration  of  private  benevolence. 
But  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  the  establishment  thus 
created  has  rendered  her  endowments  and  foundations  at 
the  present  low  rate  of  interest  ridiculously  inadequate.  It  is 
a  well-known  paradox  that  no  university  can  be  prosperous 
which  is  not  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy. 

The  helmsmen  of  Princeton's  course  have  been  and  are 
practical  men  of  wide  financial  experience  and  devoted 
loyalty.  They  have  shunned  many  a  hidden  rock  and 
sunken  reef  by  the  private  liberality  of  themselves  and 
others,  but  it  is  becoming  evident  that  the  public  must  soon 
be  taken  into  their  confidence.  Every  student  in  our  great 
universities  who  pays  every  fee  demanded  is  yet  a  founder's 
beneficiary,  because  the  actual  cost  of  his  tuition  is  nearly 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  111 

double  what  is  ever  exacted,  and  the  trifling  charge  for  the 
use  of  libraries,  laboratories,  recitation-rooms,  and  apparatus 
is  merely  to  guard  against  wanton  destruction.  It  is  clear, 
therefore,  that  every  additional  student  is  a  charge  to  the 
foundation,  and  that  educational  prosperity  may  mean  pe- 
cuniary impoverishment.  Splendid  buildings,  well-equipped 
libraries,  and  learned  professors  draw  numbers  of  students 
and  stimulate  zeal.  They  are  the  permanence  of  the  struct- 
ure, but  they  do  not  increase  the  supply  of  vital  energy 
which  must  be  gathered  and  expended  day  by  day  on  every 
incoming  and  departing  generation  of  eager  youth.  The 
disproportion  between  the  apparent  energy  or  potential  and 
the  kinetic  or  actual  work  done  is  preposterous.  In  fact,  if 
it  were  not  for  the  steady  subscriptions  of  the  few  unknown 
givers  who  make  up  deficiencies,  and  the  self-denying  de- 
votion of  many  underpaid  workers,  the  activity  of  Prince- 
ton would  often  be  curtailed  where  it  is  now  most  benef- 
icent. She  has  to  face  the  constant  diminution  of  income 
from  vested  funds,  due  to  the  reduced  rates  of  interest. 
The  greater  number  of  students  calls  for  more  instructors 
and  for  means  to  supply  the  teaching  force,  to  which,  as 
has  been  said,  any  possible  increase  of  income  through  tui- 
tion fees  would  be  utterly  inadequate.  Without  contem- 
plating new  co-ordinate  schools  of  professional  education, 
the  existing  Faculty  of  Arts  must  be  increased  by  the  addi- 
tion of  several  departments  and  the  subdivision  of  some  of 
the  existing  chairs.  The  library  fund,  moreover,  is  alto- 
gether inadequate. 

The  most  immediate  and  crj'ing  want  of  Princeton  is 
that  of  new  lecture  and  recitation  halls,  and  these,  if  built, 
would,  without  special  endowment,  be  a  charge  on  the  col- 
lege funds,  not  to  speak  of  the  fact  that  such  buildings 


112  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

yield  no  revenue.  In  this  connection  it  should  be  remarked 
that  for  the  men  of  rare  gifts  but  slender  means  who  are  so 
often  the  glory  of  seats  of  learning,  her  present  endowments 
are  far  too  slender.  Fellowships  have  proven  themselves 
to  be  priceless  in  the  furthering  of  research  and  the  train- 
ing of  teachers.  The  demand  at  Princeton  bv  worthy  can- 
didates  is  sadly  disproportionate  to  the  supply.  Finally, 
many  of  the  wisest  friends  of  the  university  contemplate 
the  establishment  in  the  near  future  of  a  School  of  Law,  for 
which  of  course  large  funds  will  be  needed.  Even  aside 
from  this  last  project  it  seems  not  too  much  to  say  that 
a  million  dollars  could  worthily  be  employed  at  once.  In- 
deed, it  would  be  more  frank  to  say  that  without  it  the 
institution  will  almost  immediately  be  dwarfed  in  its  legiti- 
mate and  wholesome  development. 

There  are  fifty  professors,  twenty- nine  instructors,  and 
eleven  assistants  and  administrative  officers  in  all  the 
Princeton  institutions,  and  a  total  of  about  thirteen  hundred 
students  in  all  departments.  There  are  also  twelve  fellow- 
ships, some  open  only  to  graduates  of  Princeton,  others, 
as  part  of  the  broader  university  work,  open  to  all  candi- 
dates. These  yield  from  four  to  six  hundred  dollars  a  year, 
and  enable  their  holders  to  devote  their  entire  time  to  re- 
search. About  thirty -five  hundred  dollars  in  money  or 
gold  medals  is  annually  distributed  in  various  prizes  to 
stimulate  generous  endeavor  in  learning.  The  number  of 
scholarships  yielding  free  tuition  to  their  undergraduate 
holders  is  eighty.  A  circle  with  a  radius  of  six  or  seven 
miles  drawn  around  the  village  would  include  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  more  boys  and  young  men  preparing  for 
college,  including,  as  it  would,  the  Lawrenceville  School,  the 
Pennington  Academy,  and  the  Princeton  School — the  three 


i  ^ 


THE    PRESIDENT  S   nOI'SE 


employing  in  the  aggregate  a  corps  of  about  thirty-five 
masters.  The  onset  of  such  a  battalion  of  academic  forces, 
men  and  officers,  is  comparable  to  that  of  any  great  educa- 
tional centre,  and  in  some  respects  is  beyond  that  of  most. 
For,  in  the  first  place,  the  teachers  and  the  students  have  a 
singleness  of  purpose  hard  to  preserve  amid  the  temptations 
and  distractions  of  large  cities ;  in  the  second  place,  Prince- 
ton stands  third,  if  not  second,  in  the  number  of  her  stu- 
dents pursuing  the  strictly  academic  course — which  varies 
but  little  from  that  which  was  once  called  the  college 
course,  or  the  preparatory  course  for  professional  training, 
but  which  is  now  beginning  to  be  called  the  education  of  a 
gentleman — and  first  in  its  theological  students,  who  pursue 
the  science  next  akin  to  philosophy  and  all  humanistic 
learning;  and,  thirdly,  no  less  than  forty -two  States  fur- 
nish each  its  quota  of  students,  and  there  are  representa- 
tives from  eleven  foreign  lands.  The  number  of  living  grad- 
uates is  not  far  from  four  thousand. 

8 


lit  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

The  writing  of  autobiography  is  always  ticklish  work, 
and  particularly  when  it  is  supposed  to  illustrate  heredity. 
In  other  words,  to  write  your  life  before  you  were  born, 
while  you  are  living,  and  after  you  are  dead  must  be  the 
task  of  either  a  philosopher  or  a  humorist.  Hence,  in  one 
who  is  neither,  caution  in  attempting  to  depict  the  Prince- 
ton type  of  education,  either  in  the  past  or  the  future,  is 
very  necessary.  As  to  the  past,  however,  some  things  are 
clear.  Until  the  first  years  of  Dr.  McCosh's  brilliant  ad- 
ministration the  course  was  almost  entirely  a  required 
one.  It  was  substantially  the  same  as  that  of  other  first- 
rate  institutions,  compounded  in  well-tried  proportions  of 
the  standard  specifics  —  to  wit,  the  classics,  mathematics, 
belles-lettres,  science,  and  philosophy*.  The  last  two  were 
given  as  much  prominence  as  was  compatible  with  old- 
fashioned  notions,  and  the  names  of  Henry,  Guyot,  and  Dod 
will  illustrate  both  their  close  alliance  and  the  sterling 
character  of  the  doctrine.  That  there  was  real  vigor  and 
initiative  in  both  school  and  laboratory  is  proven  by  names 
like  Philip  Freneau,  Boker,  Leland,  and  "William  C.  Prime 
in  literature  and  art  criticism,  or  by  those  of  the  Alexan- 
ders, Hodges,  and  Millers  in  theology  and  the  pulpit,  or  in 
public  life  by  the  long  array  of  names  already  given.  The 
annals  of  the  medical  profession  and  the  bar  would  afford 
similar  testimony.  But,  on  the  whole,  Princetonians  pride 
themselves  on  their  contributions  to  public  life  in  men  of 
action.  '  There  has  always  been  something  in  political 
Calvinism  favorable  to  state  founding  on  lines  of  liberty 
and  authority  duly  blended,  and  to  administrative  and 
public  life  according  to  the  American  type. 

Only  the  initiated  understand  how  thoroughly  unsettled 
are  educational  theories  at  the  present  day  the  world  over. 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  117 

On  the  revival  of  learning  and  science  after  the  war,  our 
most  ambitious  and  adventurous  youth  flocked  to  Ger- 
many, because  she  alone  was  supposed  to  have  solved  the 
problem  of  university  education.  Several  things  happened 
in  the  ensuing  years  as  a  consequence :  a  sudden  drift  from 
the  pursuit  of  letters  to  the  study  of  linguistics,  a  tremen- 
dous upheaval  of  scientific  studies,  which  was  wholesome, 
but  unduly  emphasized  their  proportionate  value  in  educa- 
tion, a  consequent  disorganization  of  the  old  college  plan 
by  the  aggregation  of  new  professors  and  departments,  and 
an  un-American  boldness  in  relying  on  theory  for  a  solution 
of  the  new  questions,  with  a  corresponding  disregard  for 
our  own  very  respectable  historical  growth  in  the  educa- 
tional line.  I  refrain  from  recalling  the  Continental  views 
as  to  text  criticism  and  text-making  in  the  Scriptures  and 
the  classics,  as  to  state  socialism  in  political  science,  the 
tremendous  emphasis  of  Teutonism  in  history,  and  other 
exotic  cuttings  in  philosophy  and  science  which  were  at 
once  ingrafted  on  our  own  stock,  wherever  their  anient 
discoverers  got  a  seat  in  professorial  chairs. 

The  general  result  was  utter  confusion.  As  the  light 
breaks  in  upon  the  chaos,  we  find  that  common-sense  is  re- 
asserting itself;  the  real  value  of  German  educational  im- 
pulse, immense  as  it  is,  is  now  understood  to  lie  in  a  judi- 
cious application  to  our  own  universities,  which  are  rooted 
in  the  soil  of  our  separate  and  independent  national  life,  of 
reforming  principle,  but  of  neither  foreign  experience  nor 
foreign  influence.  In  fact,  our  young  and  daring  adven- 
turers are  growing  older,  and  the  nation  draws  them  back 
to  their  bearings.  A  few  brilliant  and  useful  experi- 
ments are  being  tried  in  lately  founded  institutions,  and 
one  of  them  seems  destined  to   survive.     In  the  case  of 

8* 


118  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

the  oldest  three  American  universities  it  is  gratifying  to 
observe  that  they  have  been  receptive  and  cautious,  al- 
though in  different  proportions.  The  outcome,  startling 
enough  at  first,  is  yet  just  what  might  have  been  expected. 
With  open  arms  for  the  new,  they  have  yet  taken  a  firm 
stand  on  their  previous  experience,  and  kept  enough  of  the 
old  to  preserve  unbroken  their  historic  continuity.  To  il- 
lustrate Princeton's  position,  it  must  be  explained  that  of 
the  three,  Harvard  departed  furthest  from  the  old  norm 
common  to  all,  and  Yale  has  kept  the  closest. 

By  an  intricate  system  of  maximum  and  minimum  re- 
quirements, by  a  minute  subdivision  of  her  old  standard  of 
admission  into  subjects,  and  by  the  addition  of  certain  other 
subjects  in  science  and  modern  languages,  which  might  be 
substituted  for  or  added  to  the  old,  Harvard  broadened  the 
basis  of  admission  and  elevated  her  demands  somewhat. 
Yale  modified  her  requirements  by  the  addition  of  modern 
languages,  and  by  demanding  improvements  in  the  character 
of  preparation  in  English  and  the  classics.  Princeton  made 
almost  no  change  except  to  arrange  like  Harvard  a  system 
of  maximum  and  minimum  requirements ;  the  former  being 
optional,  the  latter  demanding  an  increase  both  in  the  quan- 
tity and  the  quality  of  what  was  to  be  offered  in  the  old 
subjects.  The  result  is  that  candidates  for  all  three  uni- 
versities are  trained  side  by  side  in  the  same  schools  and 
according  to  the  same  standards  until  within  three  months 
of  the  entrance  examination,  when  they  are  separated  to  be 
specially  trained  for  the  respective  variations  in  preparation 
for  each. 

The  Harvard  student  is  after  entrance  substantially  free 
from  all  restraint  in  choice  of  his  studies.  Or  rather  he  was, 
for  experience  has  shown  that  he  is  not  quite  fit  for  such 


feJb  1  '■ 


PRINCETON   UNIVERSITY  121 

absolute  emancipation,  and  now  an  adviser  in  the  faculty 
is  provided  for  every  candidate  for  a  degree.  In  Yale  little 
liberty  is  allowed  throughout  the  Freshman  and  Sophomore 
years.  The  high-class  students  are  taught  according  to  their 
capacities  in  separate  divisions,  but  every  Yalensian  pursues 
for  two  years  substantially  the  same  genei'al  course  as  every 
other.  Even  in  the  Junior  and  Senior  years  certain  courses 
are  prescribed.  For  the  remaining  hours  the  coming  teach- 
er, theologian,  lawyer,  or  physician  has  his  free  choice  from 
a  full  dish,  lavishly  provided,  of  such  courses  as  ma}'  lead 
up  to  his  chosen  profession  or  satisfy  his  personal  yearnings. 
Princeton  has  had  for  about  the  same  time,  perhaps  for  a 
little  longer,  a  plan  similar  but  different,  and,  since  the  ad- 
vent of  Dr.  Patton  to  the  presidency,  substantially  modified. 
All  the  studies  of  the  Freshman  year,  except  the  one  mod- 
ern language  elected  by  the  student,  are  required,  provision 
being  made  for  advanced  instruction.  In  the  Sophomore 
year  the  standard  branches — classics,  mathematics,  English, 
and  history,  with  a  fair  proportion  of  time  devoted  to  sci- 
ence and  modern  languages — are  again  required,  but  in  Lat- 
in, Greek,  mathematics,  and  modern  languages  the  student 
elects  either  two  or  four  hours  each  as  he  may  choose,  thus 
enabling  him  to  devote  himself  with  greater  zeal  to  one  or 
other,  as  he  hopes  in  the  higher  years  to  become  a  candidate 
for  honors  in  literature,  science,  or  philosophy,  or  as  his 
tastes  dispose  him. 

The  prescribed  studies  of  Yale  are  Greek,  Latin,  mathe- 
matics, English,  and  the  modern  languages,  excluding  all 
science  in  the  two  lower  years,  and  physics,  astronomy, 
logic,  psychology,  and  ethics  in  the  two  upper  years.  To 
these  Princeton  adds  in  the  lower  years  logic,  history,  and 
science — namely,  chemistry,  botany  and  zoology  ;  and  in  the 


122  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

upper  years  she  demands  political  economy,  but  leaves  as- 
tronomy elective.  The  time  devoted  to  required  studies  in 
the  upper  years  is  substantially  the  same  in  both,  with  a 
slight  preponderance  on  Princeton's  side. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  with  what  seems  at  first  sight  a 
striking  similarity  to  that  of  Yale,  the  tendency  of  Prince- 
ton's system  is  fundamentally  different  from  hers  and  from 
that  of  Harvard.  In  the  first  place,  she  has  so  far  yielded 
to  modern  agitation  as  to  require  of  all  her  graduates  a 
knowledge  of  at  least  the  elements  of  five  natural  sciences. 
Two  of  these,  physics  and  chemistry,  have  sufficient  time 
allotted  for  great  thoroughness.  The  others  are  given  in 
outlines  merely.  Some  will  say  such  courses  have  no  place 
in  university  training,  and  should  either  be  given  in  pre- 
paratory schools  or  left  to  the  option  of  each  student.  But 
they  are  nevertheless  strenuously  supported  by  others  as 
giving  every  educated  man  a  chance  to  pursue  the  natural 
sciences  under  more  competent  guidance  than  can  be  had 
in  schools,  and  so  fit  him  to  fairly  weigh  their  claims  when 
he  comes  to  years  of  choice,  and  not  disdain  them  from 
sheer  ignorance  or  inherited  prejudice.  By  this  procedure, 
moreover,  no  window  into  the  scientific  "  palace  of  de- 
light" is  darkened  for  the  man  of  culture.  He  has  his 
glimpse,  even  if  he  does  not  enter  in. 

The  prescribed  studies  of  the  Princeton  system,  therefore, 
are  not  alone  those  of  the  olden  time,  but  the  area  is  in- 
creased by  the  addition  of  much  science.  General  training 
is  broadened,  if  not  intensified.  These  central  studies  are 
logically  and  consecutively  introduced,  and  elasticity  in  pro- 
viding for  individual  wants  is  secured  as  early  as  Sopho- 
more year  by  leaving  each  student  free  to  take  more  or  less 
Latin,  Greek,  and  mathematics,  as  his  inclination  prompts, 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  123 

but  requiring  a  substantial  amount  of  these  from  all.  In 
this  way  it  is  believed  that  the  value  of  the  much-coveted 
degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  is  in  no  way  diminished,  nor  its 
meaning  materially  altered,  though  everything  essential  has 
been  conceded  to  the  scientific  reformers.  In  the  upper 
years  the  rights  of  that  age  of  choice  which  falls  some- 
where between  nineteen  and  twenty-four  are  fully  respected 
by  providing  various  and  numerous  elective  courses  in  clas- 
sics, English  and  modern  languages,  in  mathematics,  the  cor- 
related and  the  natural  or  biological  sciences,  and  in  philoso- 
phy pure  and  applied  in  all  its  branches,  in  history  and  its 
cognate  subjects. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  second  important  peculiarity  of 
the  Princeton  system,  in  that  it  is  compelled  by  the  struct- 
ural arrangement  of  the  studies  of  Freshman  and  Sopho- 
more years  to  emphasize  the  grouping  of  electives.  This 
is  because  the  recjuired  studies  embrace  an  introduction  to 
every  great  department  of  elective  work.  The  invaluable 
class  of  "  general  excellence  "  students  have  the  same  open 
and  inviting  door  as  of  old.  The  subtle  influences  of  the 
time  card — that  is,  of  hours  allotted  to  certain  branches — 
are  all  used  to  draw  them  to  standard  subjects.  But  the 
born  or  developed  specialist  has  from  the  opening  of  Junior 
year  a  fair  chance  to  rival  the  other  in  the  race  for  honors. 
The  elective  courses  fall  naturally  under  certain  rubrics  in 
their  announcement,  and  the  hours  are  carefully  so  arranged 
that  he  may  fill  all  his  open  time  by  courses  in  his  chosen 
line  of  work,  and  special  honors  are  provided  for  him.  The 
elective  system  thus  affords  the  maturer  mind  of  the  man 
whose  profession  is  chosen  the  opportunities  either  for  in- 
tense application  to  a  scholar's  specialty,  or  for  such  a 
propaedeutic  as  shortens  by  one  year  at  least,  perhaps  by 


124 


FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 


two,  the  special  training  for  life-work  in  the  learned  pro- 
fessions. And  so,  finally,  the  examinations  fall  unconscious- 
ly into  a  kind  of  tripos  system,  in  which  every  regular  stu- 
dent puts  about  two-thirds  of  his  elective  time  into  the 
divisions  of  some  one  line  of  work  for  thoroughness,  and 
another  third  into  a  different  course  for  general  culture. 

The  trend,  therefore,  of  academic  training  in  Princeton 
is  towards  the  cultivation  of  aptitudes,  and  the  creation  of 
that  small  but  precious  aristocracy  of  scholars,  men  who 
from  childhood  ride  their  hobby  because  they  early  recog- 
nize their  gifts,  and  so  attain  heights  which  serve  as  land- 
marks for  the  great  mass  of  broadly  educated  men.     At  the 


Photof  raplieil  by  R.  H.  Rose  Si  Son 


ALEXANDER    HALL 


PRINCETON  VNIVERSITY  125 

same  time  she  hopes  she  has  saved  for  the  nation,  within 
the  lines  of  her  influence,  that  general  training  which  made 
educated  Americans  of  earlier  generations  so  habile  and 
adroit,  and  still  makes  the  professional  men  who  have  had 
it  the  superiors  of  those  who  have  not,  whether  their  work 
is  in  science,  philosophy,  or  the  arts.  The  circumference 
of  liberal  training  is,  according  to  her  system,  segmented 
into  schools  of  philosophy,  of  history  and  political  science, 
of  jurisprudence,  of  classical  literature,  of  art  and  archeol- 
ogy, of  English  literature,  and  of  the  modern  languages  for 
the  humanities ;  on  the  scientific  side,  of  mathematics,  of 
natural  and  physical  science,  and  of  biology.  It  is  hoped 
soon  to  add  a  school  of  Semitic  languages,  or  rather  to  de- 
velop the  one  already  tentatively  instituted.  Most  of  these 
have  both  graduate  and  undergraduate  divisions,  securing 
thorough  scientific  treatment  according  to  various  stages  of 
advancement,  and  holding  out  inducements  to  students  of 
the  highest  attainments. 

If  it  were  possible  to  enter  more  into  detail,  mention 
should  be  made  among  many  other  important  matters  of 
the  great  impetus  given  to  the  study  of  pure  philosophy  in 
the  last  twenty  years  by  the  great  energy  of  Dr.  McCosh. 
That  impulse  bids  fair  to  be  lasting,  for  his  successor  has 
the  interests  of  that  department  at  heart,  and  at  this  mo- 
ment the  number  of  students  enrolled  in  it  is  very  large. 
Great  care,  moreover,  has  been  given  to  the  arrangement 
of  English  studies.  They  are  ranked  equal  to  any  others, 
and  the  learning  and  zeal  given  to  their  furtherance  awaken 
a  feeling  of  just  pride  in  all  Princetonians. 

The  School  of  Science  in  Princeton  was  founded  with  a 
most  interesting  end  in  view,  to  relieve  the  academic  de- 
partment of  undue  pressure  for  the  introduction  of  science, 


126  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

and  to  provide  a  corresponding  liberal  training  for  youth 
who  wished  to  substitute  modern  languages  for  classics,  or 
science  for  philosophy,  to  get  a  somewhat  wider  knowledge 
of  applied  mathematics,  and  to  secure  manual  training  in 
the  use  of  apparatus  in  laboratories  and  drawing-rooms. 
The  degrees  to  be  given  were  Bachelor,  Master,  and  Doctor 
of  Science,  and  every  undergraduate  was  required  to  take 
certain  academic  branches  as  a  liberalizing  element  in  his 
education,  but  as  a  supplement  a  course  in  civil-engineer- 
ing was  incorporated  in  the  same  plan.  Beautiful  quarters, 
with  a  luxurious  equipment,  were  provided,  and  the  aca- 
demic departments  of  physics  and  chemistry  were  put 
under  the  same  roof.  It  was  supposed  that  graduates 
of  the  School  of  Science  would  have  the  same  broad 
and  untechnical  training  as  other  college  graduates,  and 
would  then  proceed  to  their  specialties,  whatever  those 
might  be. 

The  school  has  been  in  operation  for  twenty-five  years, 
and  it  seems  as  if  an  intelligent  opinion  might  now  be 
formed  as  to  the  success  of  the  original  design.  There 
was  certainly  no  relief  to  the  pressure  for  admission  of 
science  into  the  academic  department,  as  no  college  in  the 
land  makes  such  demands  on  its  required  course  in  that  re- 
spect. Last  year  sixty -two  per  cent,  of  its  students  were  in 
the  technical  departments  of  Electricity  and  Civil-Engineer- 
ing, while  certainly  one-half  the  remainder  were  in  training 
for  other  technical  professions.  The  writer  recalls  a  very 
small  number  who  have  either  pursued  graduate  work  for  a 
professional  degree,  or  advanced  to  learned  professions  by 
study  elsewhere.  That  is  to  say,  the  school  has  found  its 
success  and  justification  elsewhere  than  was  anticipated; 
for  the  great  majority  of  its  graduates  are  men  with  practi- 


PHIXCETOX  UNIVERSITY  129 

cal  technical  training,  fitting  them  to  enter  at  once  on  the 
duties  of  professional  life. 

It  is  hoped  and  believed  by  many,  however,  that  powerful 
influences  which  have  been  at  work  from  the  beginning 
may  prove  equal  to  realizing  the  aim  of  general  culture,  and 
produce  a  large  number  of  unprofessional  graduates.  Such 
forces  are  those  exerted  by  the  instruction  of  both  scientific 
and  academic  students  in  the  same  classes  by  instructors  in 
psychology,  politics,  and  literature.  All  scientific  students, 
moreover,  are  carefully  trained  in  the  writing  of  essays  in 
their  regular  course,  and,  as  will  be  seen  further  on,  in  the 
student  associations. 

Alone:  this  line  of  technical  education  the  school  is  a 
success,  its  numbers  increase  year  by  year,  the  standard  of 
admission  is  steadily  rising,  and  by  the  addition  of  new  de- 
partments it  is  widening  the  sphere  of  its  influence  and  use- 
fulness. There  are  some  who  see  in  such  rapid  develop- 
ment of  professional  schools  parallel  with  the  college  course 
a  menace  to  the  influence  and  prestige  of  liberal  education. 
Such  anxiety  is  not  well  founded.  When  universities  first 
sprang  into  existence,  it  was  by  establishing  different  facul- 
ties in  different  places.  That  plan  survived  until  a  recent 
date  in  France,  and  has,  from  the  necessity  of  the  case,  been 
extensively  followed  here.  Central  and  southern  Europe, 
on  the  other  hand,  gathered  all  the  faculties  as  far  as  pos- 
sible to  common  centres,  into  close  propinquity  and  relation 
to  each  other.  The  result  is  obvious  in  the  history  of 
education.  The  collective  intellectual  labor  of  men  who  all 
live  by  their  brains  creates  community  of  interest  and 
strength  of  movement.  Mutual  appreciation  takes  the 
place  of  mutual  distrust  among  students  and  professors  of 
various  subjects.     The  narrowness  of  the  humanities  offsets 


130  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

the  narrowness  of  science  and  the  practical  rigidity  of  the 
useful  arts.  Most  men  bred  in  universities  have  learned 
more  from  their  association  with  fellow-students  than  from 
their  teachers.  In  every  line  of  investigation  and  mental 
drill  there  are  educational  value  and  liberal  training,  much 
more  in  some  than  in  others,  but  much  in  all.  Large  bodies 
of  men  who  do  such  work  interact  wholesomely  on  each 
other  when  brought  into  daily  contact  by  vicinage.  If  the 
humanities  are  weakened  or  profaned  in  such  association, 
or  the  pursuit  of  science  and  knowledge  for  its  own  sake  is 
endangered,  then  the  boasted  self-effacement  of  their  votaries 
and  the  vaunted  strength  of  ideals  ought  to  be  shown  up 
as  unfit  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  But  such  is  not  the 
fact.  On  the  contrary,  they  nowhere  shine  with  such 
brightness,  nor  work  with  such  success  in  leavening  the 
whole  lump  of  educated  men. 

But  these  truisms  receive  special  emphasis  in  Princeton 
by  the  fact  that  all  the  students  of  whatever  stripe  are  eli- 
gible to  membership  in  the  great  literary  societies,  or  "  halls."' 
as  the  college  parlance  shapes  its  phrase  from  their  respec- 
tive buildings.  These  associations  are  now  absolutely  unique, 
as  the  older  colleges  which  once  had  similar  literary  socie- 
ties have,  with  a  few  exceptions,  now  lost  them.  The  two 
Princeton  halls  were  founded  respectively  one  by  James 
Madison  and  associates,  the  other  by  Robert  Ogden,  Will- 
iam  Paterson,  Luther  Martin,  Oliver  Ellsworth,  and  Tap- 
ping Reeve.  Of  these  six  men,  three  were  afterwards  train- 
ers of  the  Constitution,  one  was  Chief-Justice  of  Connecti- 
cut, one  was  Attorney-General  of  the  United  States,  one 
was  Chief-Justice  of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  and 
one  was  President.  There  is  no  need  to  describe  the  char- 
acter of  these  associations  thus  founded,  nor  the  impress 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY 


131 


their  founders  put  upon  them.  That  character  has  persist- 
ed to  the  present  day,  although  the  quaint  first  names  of 
Plain  -  dealing  and  Well-meaning  have  been  changed  to 
American  Whig  and  Cliosophic. 

They  have  handsome  and  solid  buildings,  as  near  alike  as 
possible,  so  that  their  keen  rivalry  may  be  purely  literary. 
Their  management  is  absolutely  without  interference  by 
the  faculty,  except  as  graduate  members  in  that  body  have 


SEMINARY    BUILDING 


the  same  privileges  as  others.  The  nights  on  which  they 
meet  have  a  place  in  the  student's  calendar  as  "hall  night." 
In  a  high  degree  they  conduce  to  the  political  and  literary 
training  of  their  members,  as  the  rivalry  for  their  honors  is 
intense,  and  the  large  membership  — about  400  in  one,  and 
450  in  the  other— both  insures  a  dignified  critical  audience, 
and  gives  field  enough  for  selection  to  guarantee  high  abil- 
ities and  a  thorough  training  in  those  who  rise  to  the  top. 


132  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

Their  public  contests  are  in  oratory,  debate,  and  composi- 
tion. Since  1S76,  of  the  42  first  honors,  19  have  gone  to 
one  and  23  to  the  other.  It  is  an  open  secret  that  they  are 
modelled  as  closely  as  may  be  on  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, with  a  view  to  training  their  members  for  public  life 
and  making  them  familiar  with  parliamentary  custom. 

These  few  words  will  indicate  the  high  value  of  such  aux- 
iliaries. They  afford  that  distinction  which  noble  youth  so 
earnestly  covets  not  only  in  the  pala?stra,  but  in  the  forum 
and  the  porch.  The  largeness  of  their  interests  trains  men 
to  leadership  without  reference  to  the  pettiness  or  grandeur 
of  enterprises.  They  more  than  double  the  regular  training 
of  the  university  in  politics,  history,  and  literature.  They 
form  a  charming  social  centre,  democratic  and  American  in 
the  numbers  which  have  access  to  the  hearth-stone.  They 
secure  the  somewhat  inconsiderate  and  rude  but  invaluable 
training  of  }'outh  by  youth  under  restraints  which  prevent 
its  degradation  into  brutality.  They  give  every  man  that 
fair  chance  among  his  equals  which  restrains  effrontery  while 
it  cures  bashfulness  and  develops  efficiency.  Their  enthusi- 
asm is  as  great  to-day  as  it  was  in  the  last  century,  and  they 
are  better  equipped  than  ever  for  their  work. 

Since  the  great  movement  was  inaugurated  which  estab- 
lished athletics  as  a  permanent  element  in  school  and  uni- 
versity life,  Princeton  has  not  been  without  glory  in  out- 
door sport.  She  has  from  the  outset  been  a  doughty  oppo- 
nent to  both  Yale  and  Harvard,  and  in  those  games  which 
she  plays  has  had  her  due  mead  of  victory  in  intercollegiate 
contests.  Her  success  has  certainly  been  great  in  propor- 
tion to  her  numbers.  This  is  not  a  matter  of  slight  signifi- 
cance nor  of  college  advertisement,  and  at  the  risk  of 
running  counter  to  public  prejudice,  I  venture  a  few  words 


3      wf 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  135 

of  serious  comment  on  a  theme  of  the  highest  importance. 
The  subject  should  be  viewed  from  several  aspects.  The 
first  one  is  trite  enough,  that  as  patriots  and  educators  col- 
lege managers  are  bound  to  provide  physical  education  as 
well  as  moral  and  mental.  This  is  admitted  on  all  hands ; 
the  question  is  how  to  reach  the  result.  Some  would  have 
military  drill,  discipline,  and  uniforms,  with  an  instructor 
from  the  officers  of  the  regular  army,  as  provided  gratis  by 
the  general  government.  Others  would  take  the  dimensions 
of  every  limb,  calculate  the  proportions  of  the  body,  auscul- 
tate for  every  defect,  in  lungs  and  heart,  and  then,  under  med- 
ical supervision,  provide  the  apparatus  needed  to  expand  the 
chest,  or  draw  down  a  shoulder,  or  decrease  the  waist,  and 
send  the  young  Apollo  with  his  perfect  proportions  and 
graceful  walk  on  his  journey  through  the  world.  A  third 
method  is  to  provide  a  free  gymnasium,  also  with  a  compe- 
tent instructor,  leaving  its  use  in  preparation  for  sports  of 
various  sorts  to  the  option  of  those  who  engage  in  them,  or 
wish  to,  and  provide  a  stimulus  for  the  largest  possible  num- 
ber to  use  it  by  the  development  of  the  glorious  and  ex- 
hilarating out-door  games — base-ball,  foot-ball,  lacrosse,  and 
rowing — in  the  management  of  the  students  themselves. 

It  is  clear  that  the  first  of  these  propositions  would  add  a 
new  study  to  the  student's  already  overburdened  course, 
and  emphasize  unduly  the  military  conception  of  life  in  our 
civil  institutions.  The  second  must  go  down  under  the 
simple  consideration  that  it  makes  work  out  of  play,  and 
like  the  former  destroys  all  spontaneity  and  initiative  on 
the  part  of  the  student.  If  military  drill  and  gymnastic 
exercises  are  really  a  portion  of  a  liberal  education,  make 
them  so  openly,  incorporate  them  in  your  scheme,  but  still 
leave  time  for  recreation.     The  third  one,  therefore,  is  the 


136  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

correct  conception.  "We  firmly  believe  in  the  value  of  physi- 
cal training,  but  athletics  is  quite  another  thing,  for  it  in- 
cludes the  moral  element  in  the  conduct  of  sport,  which  is  sec- 
ond to  no  other.  A  great  Frenchman,  distressed  by  the  dull 
and  heavy  temper  of  the  Lyceen  and  the  gloom  of  his  life, 
has  recently  supported  the  powerful  and  successful  move- 
ment inaugurated  in  his  native  land  for  the  introduction  of 
American  and  English  games.  He  wishes  to  bring  with 
them  the  joyousness,  the  robust  vigor,  and  the  initiative  of 
English  and  American  boy  life.  We  may  not  give  our 
young  men  liberty  in  their  studies,  he  argues — we  know 
how  that  leads  to  sciolism;  nor  yet  in  their  morals — bitter 
experience  precludes  that ;  where,  then,  shall  they  have 
freedom?  In  their  sports.  I  do  not  quote,  but  give  as 
correctly  as  possible  from  memory  what  I  read  some  time 
ago. 

This  has  been  in  substance  the  Princeton  practice  and 
system  from  the  beginning.  The  time  of  college  years  is 
too  precious  to  be  devoted  to  the  work  of  mere  physical 
training.  Yet  recreation  is  essential.  When  voung  men, 
therefore,  play  from  the  love  of  it,  they  get  both.  And  as 
intercollegiate  sports  were  managed  for  many  years,  they 
get  far  more — namely,  the  experience  of  large  enterprises ; 
the  character  of  generous  submission  to  defeat,  with  perse- 
verance to  begin  all  over  and  try  again ;  and  self-restraint, 
with  courtesy  to  the  weaker,  in  victory.  This  was  so  when 
out-door  sports  were  conducted  for  the  sake  of  sport,  as 
they  once  were,  and  will  be  again  when  the  true  bearings 
of  harmonious  co-operation  and  pluck  upon  winning  shall  be 
rediscovered.  It  is  certain  that'  in  the  intense  rivalry  of 
such  contests  victory  will  go  only  where  fine  traditions  are 
guarded,  and  where  the  right  spirit  is  perpetuated  by  the 


|«H   ir,n 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  139 

active  interest  of  every  man  according  to  bis  powers.  There 
can  be  nothing  vicarious  in  athletics ;  neither  the  power  of 
money,  nor  the  influence  of  social  rank,  nor  the  supervision 
of  committees  can  replace  the  unity  of  movement  which 
combines  a  whole  society  into  one  uplifting,  forceful  effort 
at  the  crisis. 

Any  in-door  recreation  or  exercise,  while  it  has  its  place, 
is,  after  all,  a  poor  shift  for  out-door  sport.  It  is  a  serious 
truth  that  other  nations  wonder  at  the  proud  position  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  and  that  they  attribute  the  fine  ripe 
qualities  of  maturer  life  to  the  beginnings  born  on  playing- 
fields  and  developed  in  the  seriousness  of  conflict.  These 
mimic  battle-fields  demand  the  same  cpialities  as  real  ones, 
and  no  great  game  is  won  without  the  moral  support  of  the 
non-combatants.  Union,  organization,  enthusiasm,  pluck, 
high  principle — every  one  of  them  is  as  much  the  price  of 
atldetic  as  of  martial  victory.  It  is  humiliating,  when  we 
have  the  precious  possession  of  taste  and  power  in  such  a 
matter,  to  find  it  belittled  and  discouraged  in  so  many  ways. 
Instead  of  being  grateful  for  the  Spartan  element  in  the 
training  of  its  youth,  America  is  either  ignorant  of  its  value 
or  opposed  to  its  exercise  entirely. 

The  social  side  of  Princeton  life  differs  by  the  whole 
heavens  from  that  of  any  other  university  on  our  side  of 
the  water.  It  is  a  strange  combination  of  town  and  coun- 
try which  produces  this  effect.  It  is  nearer  to  the  great 
cities  than  any  college  which  is  not  in  and  of  them.  A  run 
of  an  hour  and  a  half  in  an  express  train  brings  it  to  them 
and  them  to  it.  Yet  that  is  sufficient  distance  to  secure 
entire  isolation  from  the  influence  of  the  counting-house 
and  the  "  street,"  or  from  the  attractions  of  the  drama  or 
the  whirl  of  winter  gayety.     The  morning  paper  from  New 


140  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

York  or  Philadelphia  is  on  the  breakfast-table,  but  Vanity 
Fair  is  behind  the  lenses  and  screens  of  the  diorama.  Most 
of  the  time,  therefore,  Princeton  is  left  to  its  own  resources, 
but  in  the  intervals  it  has  the  stimulus  from  without  which 
gives  a  strong  enough  fillip  to  make  the  blood  course  freely. 
The  town  itself,  moreover,  has  but  one  interest.  There  are 
no  manufactures,  no  courts,  no  fairs.  With  the  exception 
of  a  few  gentle  families  of  independent  means,  who  either 
belong  to  the  old  gentry  of  the  State  or  find  the  village  a 
pleasant  place  of  retirement,  the  inhabitants  consist  of  the 
professors  or  other  attaches  of  the  college  and  seminary 
with  their  families,  and  of  those  who  in  some  direct  or  in- 
direct way  provide  for  their  necessities. 

It  is  evident  that  such  a  social  organism  must  have  very 
exceptional  traits.  The  steady  habits,  plain  living,  and  ab- 
sorbing duties  of  professors  all  tend  to  retirement  and 
isolation.  The  occupants  of  the  various  chairs,  moreover, 
are  brought  from  wherever  they  may  be  found,  and  if  fitted 
for  their  position  they  have  that  sturdy  individuality  which 
does  not  easily  blend  into  homogeneity  or  bow  to  tradi- 
tional habits.  The  association  of  families  like  these,  there- 
fore, might  be  expected  to  show  something  of  conscious 
effort  and  restraint.  But,  except  for  a  trifle  of  old-fashioned 
formality,  the  new-comer  is  not  aware  of  any  eccentricity, 
because  the  limitations  of  small  number  prevent  the  forma- 
tion of  cliques,  and  constant  companionship  soon  produces 
ease  and  a  quiet  toleration  of  individuality  in  others.  There 
is  plenty  of  entertaining — teas,  receptions,  suppers,  and  quiet 
dinners,  simple  and  unostentatious,  but  warm  with  hospi- 
tality and  genial  enjoyment.  For  the  men  there  is  a  social 
club,  the  "  Nassau,"  which  at  intervals,  like  other  similar 
country  associations,  opens  its  doors  to  women  also.     The 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  141 

constituent  elements  in  such  society  never  quite  combine  in 
chemical  union  to  the  extent  of  personal  obliteration,  but 
their  very  persistence  has  the  charm  of  the  unforeseen. 
And  to  this  is  added  greater  variety  by  the  constant  visits 
of  strangers  from  at  home  or  abroad,  drawn  by  the  pres- 
ence of  some  friend  in  the  college,  or  by  curiosity  and  the 
ease  of  approach.  Princeton  society  lies  away  from  the 
hurly-burly  of  the  great  world,  but  it  is  on  that  account 
neither  uninteresting  nor  fossilized.  Free  from  affectations, 
its  danger  is  in  self-complacency  rather  than  in  envy. 

There  exist  in  Princeton  several  learned  societies,  with  a 
total  membership  of  about  eighty.  They  average  twenty 
members,  though  they  are  not  of  equal  size.  They  are  com- 
posed exclusively  of  professors,  fellows,  and  graduates,  and 
are  styled  the  Science, -Philosophy,  and  Literary  clubs  re- 
spectively; and  the  first  has  now  thrown  off  two  sections — 
mathematical  and  biological.  The  sphere  of  each  is  kept 
so  large  that  they  enclose  all  the  intellectual  activity  of  the 
university.  Each  meets  once  a  month,  and  divides  its 
meetings  into  two  classes  —  those  for  original  papers,  and 
those  for  the  reports  of  what  the  world  is  doing  in  its  line. 
The  proportion  of  the  former  to  the  latter  is  as  two  to  one 
approximately.  These  societies  are  the  most  potent  influ- 
ence in  stimulating  to  research,  and  the  creative  activity  of 
their  members  is  largely  enforced  by  the  necessity  of  keep- 
ing step  in  a  progressive  bod}'.  Many  of  the  original  con- 
tributions are  printed  either  in  learned  journals  or  in  the 
Bulletin — a  quarterly  appearing  during  term-time,  and  de- 
voted to  the  interests  of  the  trustees  and  faculty.  It  is  not 
uncommon  either  for  the  papers  thus  offered  to  be  again 
read  in  what  is  known  as  the  library  meeting.  The  Presi- 
dent's mansion  is  very  large,  and  at  intervals  he  throws 


142  FOVH  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

open  his  library  and  the  adjoining  rooms  to  the  upper  class 
men — Juniors,  Seniors,  and  graduates.  An  essay  by  a  pro- 
fessor, fellow,  or  some  invited  guest  is  read.  Then  follows 
a  discussion,  introduced  by  some  one  versed  in  the  subject 
of  the  paper,  and  afterwards  thrown  open  to  all  present. 
Such  meetings  have  been  very  frequent  for  twenty -one 
years,  and  are  prized  by  the  aristocracy  of  scholars  among 
Princeton  students  as  the  most  invaluable  opportunities  of 
their  university  life.  The  attendance  is  as  high  as  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty,  and  the  session  often  lasts  two  hours  and  a 
half  with  unflagging  interest.  Stiffness  and  coldness  are 
banished  from  both  the  club  and  librar\'  meetings  by  the 
fact  that  they  are  not  ordinarily  held  in  public  rooms,  but 
in  the  inviting  privacy  of  a  friendly  home,  under  the  shade 
of  an  hospitable  roof-tree. 

The  assurance  of  any  one  not  a  student  in  aspiring  to 
delineate  even  the  salient  features  of  student  life  is  simply 
incalculable.  If  it  be  true  —  as,  alas,  it  is  true — that  one- 
half  of  the  world  ignores  the  doings  of  the  other,  and  if 
even  parents  in  the  intimacy  of  domestic  life  meet  with 
such  surprises  in  the  lives  of  their  children,  what  shall  be 
said  of  the  privacy  witli  which  the  student  cloaks  himself 
before  all  except  his  fellows?  And  yet  there  are  some 
matters  of  interest  which  cannot  be  hidden.  Princeton 
students  come,  as  was  noted  in  another  connection  and  ac- 
cording to  the  last  catalogue,  from  some  fort3T-two  States  and 
eleven  foreign  lands.  While  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and 
Pennsylvania  furnish  the  largest  quotas,  yet  there  are  so 
many  and  different  towns,  cities,  and  rural  districts  repre- 
sented that  no  social  class  or  local  influence  or  professional 
clique  can  determine  standards  of  living  and  thinking. 
Then,  too,  there  are  no  Greek -letter  fraternities  to  gather 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  145 

iii  and  crystallize  social  sets,  although,  of  course,  where  men 
congregate  like  will  more  or  less  foregather  and  collogue 
with  like.  So  it  happens  that  there  is  a  constant  flux,  ar- 
rangement, and  rearrangement  of  associates.  The  poor  are 
not  debarred  by  the  costly  machinery  of  life  from  meeting 
the  richer,  nor  these  by  the  existence  of  self-consciousness 
from  the  invaluable  intimacy  with  the  self-supporting.  In 
fact,  the  whole  scale  of  expenditure  is  comparatively  low, 
necessary  expenses  running  from  three  to  seven  hundred 
dollars  a  year,  and  this  begets  social  equality.  The  friends 
of  Freshman  year  are,  moreover,  not  necessarily  those  of 
Senior  year;  in  general  experience,  quite  the  reverse  is  the 
case. 

The  community  of  social  life  depends  on  what  may  be 
called  the  home  life  of  the  students'  chambers,  and  on  the 
intercourse  at  table  in  the  various  boarding-houses  scattered 
throughout  the  town.  This  latter  matter  is  one  of  very 
serious  import.  Some  influential  man  gathers  together  a 
number  (ten  or  upwards)  of  his  acquaintance,  and  secures 
board  for  them  where  accommodation  is  to  be  had.  lie  is 
in  a  measure  responsible  for  the  character  of  the  food  and 
cooking,  and  intermediates  between  the  Boniface  and  his 
guests.  In  return  for  these  services  he  has  his  own  seat  at 
table  without  charge.  This  is,  of  course,  one  of  the  best- 
known  ways  of  supplementing  slender  means.  The  scale  of 
charges  differs  according  to  circumstances,  and  furnishes 
food  at  various  prices  to  suit  every  purse.  A  generous  friend 
once  provided  a  spacious  hall,  with  all  the  appurtenances  of 
an  excellent  restaurant,  large  enough  to  seat  two-thirds  of 
the  young  men,  and  for  a  year  or  so  furnished  excellent 
food  at  a  reasonable  price.  But  his  customers  (!)  finally  fell 
away.  For  some  it  was  too  dear,  for  some  too  cheap,  and 
10 


146  FQVR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

for  all  too  public.  It  was  one  of  the  sights  to  visit  the 
•'  commons  "  at  dinner-time,  and  the  diners  would  have  none 
of  it.  The  old  institution  of  eating-houses  or  clubs,  with 
their  uninspected  dietary  and  precious  privacy  for  talk  and 
joke  and  debate,  has  long  since  reasserted  itself.  It  seems 
to  have  been  largely  the  social  element  which  reinstated 
them,  and  it  is  certainly  that  element  which  sustains  them. 
Princeton  college  rooms  are,  on  the  whole,  very  commo- 
dious and  reasonable  in  price.  There  are  far  from  enough 
of  them,  and,  as  a  consequence,  they  are  in  great  demand. 
The  athletics  of  spring  and  autumn  keep  nearly  all  but  the 
most  diligent  out-of-doors  in  recreation-time.  In  addition 
to  the  "  University  "  and  "Brokaw,"  two  fine  large  athletic 
lields,  with  club-houses,  dressing-rooms,  and  every  variety 
of  baths,  there  are  several  other  grounds  available  for  base- 
ball, foot-ball,  lacrosse,  and  tennis.  In  those  seasons  and 
at  the  proper  hours  every  vista  shows  groups  of  students 
clad  in  flannels  and  absorbed  in  games.  Boating  has  un- 
fortunately fallen  out  of  the  list  of  Princeton  sports,  al- 
though there  is  an  admirable  boat-house  nearer  to  the 
centre  of  life  than  at  either  Yale  or  Harvard,  and  the 
Delaware  and  Karitan  Canal  affords  better  facilities  for 
rowing  than  either  the  Isis  or  the  Cam.  But  in  the  long 
evenings  of  the  winter  term  the  undergraduates'  cham- 
bers are  his  delight.  Adorned  with  every  trophy  and 
souvenir  dear  to  the  heart  of  youth,  many  of  them  are 
most  attractive.  And  when  the  logs  —  real'  logs  still  in 
Princeton  —  are  heaped  on  the  hearth  in  the  early,  and 
sometimes  the  late  evening  too,  song  and  joke  mingle  with 
the  tinkle  of  the  guitar  and  mandolin,  or  often  the  louder 
tones  of  the  piano  and  the  cornet  break  through  the  cur- 
tained windows  and  float  vaguely  to  the  passers'  ears. 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  149 

Student  associations  are  very  numerous.  There  are,  of 
course,  the  various  boards  of  athletic  management  and  the 
gymnastic  associations,  but  there  are  besides  the  glee  club, 
the  banjo  club,  the  dramatic  association,  the  chess  club,  the 
hare-and-hounds  club,  the  kennel  club,  the  gun  club,  and  more 
of  the  same  class.  Then  there  are  always  a  number  of  de- 
bating clubs  for  private  practice,  and  of  late  there  have 
been  very  enthusiastic  Shakespeare,  Browning,  and  other 
literary  associations.  They  all  have  their  active  supporters, 
and  keep  up  a  vigorous  interest  and  vitality.  In  addition 
there  ai'e  five  social  organizations  with  an  average  member- 
ship (confined  to  upper-class  men)  of  about  twenty,  that  rise 
to  the  dignity  of  houses  in  which  there  are  dining-rooms, 
reading-rooms,  bedrooms  for  graduates,  and  all  the  various 
paraphernalia  of  a  club.  If  the  Princeton  man  is  largely 
thrown  for  society  upon  himself  and  his  fellows  by  the  ab- 
normal conditions  of  a  small  town,  he  is  amply  able  to  meet 
the  emergency. 

Yet  the  social  intercourse  of  many  with  the  families  of 
their  instructors  and  governors  is  very  constant — as  con- 
stant, in  fact,  as  they  care  to  make  it,  for  they  are  very  wel- 
come with  their  budgets  of  news  and  the  latest  joke  and 
their  bubbling  spirits.  But,  on  the  whole,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed they  prefer  their  own  kind,  and  when  there  is  to  be  a 
great  social  event,  as  at  Commencement  or  at  intervals  dur- 
ing the  winter,  the  undergraduates  like  to  organize  and  man- 
age it  themselves,  and  have  their  friends  from  home  share 
their  pleasures.  Youth  is  not  slow  to  express  opinions  or 
give  utterance  to  the  passing  impression.  Those  of  old 
Nassau  are  no  exception ;  they  demand  all  sorts  of  things 
through  the  medium  of  their  press,  which  is,  however,  con- 
ducted with  admirable  gravity  and  self  -  repression.  They 
10* 


150  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

want  lectures  and  music  and  entertainment ;  but  when  the 
lectures  and  the  like  come,  it  must  be  confessed  that  they  are 
not  very  much  run  after,  or  even  very  well  supported.  They 
frankly  censure  what  they  consider  censurable  in  their  daily 
paper,  they  crack  their  jokes  in  an  illustrated  comic  weekly, 
and  in  their  excellent  monthly  magazine  they  discuss  all  sorts 
of  things  without  restraint,  but  with  force  and  good-nature. 

Si  I'esprit  sert  a  tout,  il  ne  suffit  d  rim,.     No  account  of 
Princeton,  or  of  any  other  seat  of  learning  for  that  matter, 
would  be  complete  without  mention  of  her  attitude  to  re- 
ligion.    The  oldest  and  largest  seminary  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  is  situated  in  Princeton.     For  years  its  theology  and 
the  name  of  the  town  have  been  associated  in  the  public 
mind,  and  they  have  been  so  compounded  into  one  word  that 
the  parts  may  never  be  separated.     Logically  enough,  how- 
ever, when  you  consider,  the  college  proper  has  always  been 
unsectarian,  containing  nothing  whatsoever  in  its  charter  to 
compel  the  election  of  its  officers  from  any  denomination  or 
profession.     It  has  always  taught  the  Bible  as  a  part  of  its 
course,  and  continues  to  do  so.     There  is  instruction  by  the 
President  in  the  Evidences  of  Christianity,  and  a  chair  of  the 
Harmony  of  Science  and  Keligion.     There  are  daily  chapel 
services,  where  alone  is  seen  impressively  the  unity  of  the 
university.      These  have  been  conducted  for  the  most  part 
by  clergymen,  but  are  often  enough  in  charge  of  officiating 
laymen.     There  is  an  old  and  distinguished  religious  society, 
the  Philadelphian,  ever  characterized  by  piety  and  mission- 
ary ardor.     There  is  throughout  the  institution  an  active, 
intense,  spontaneous  religious  life.     But,  like  all  wholesome 
activities,  it   all  comes  from  personal  impulse  and  convic- 
tion.    The  university  exists  for  the  sake  of  sound  learning. 
The  instruction  given  in  the  philosophical  and  historical  de- 


•    #\  TO   ! 


-+■ 


PltlXCETON  UNIVERSITY  153 

partraents  shuns  no  difficult  questions  because  of  their  rela- 
tion to  faith.  But  it  has  no  conscious  aim  to  turn  out  men 
machine-made  in  their  conscience  and  convictions.  Men  of 
all  sects,  including  Roman  Catholics  and  Jews,  are  heartily 
welcomed.  They  can  and  do  avail  themselves  of  its  advan- 
tages without  any  sense  of  illiberal  treatment,  or  of  narrow- 
ness and  bigotry  in  the  spirit  of  the  place. 
•  After  all  that  is  said  in  the  fashionable  philosophy  of  our 
day  about  organisms  and  organic  life,  society  is  formed  by 
individuals,  and  resolves  itself  into  individuals.  When, 
therefore,  we  weigh  a  state,  or  a  family,  or  any  other  pha- 
lanstery of  men,  our  first  inquiry  is,  where  and  what  is  the 
individual — the  race  can  take  care  of  itself.  In  this  series 
every  writer  holds  a  brief  for  the  university  which  is  his 
theme.  He  must  be  pardoned  for  blindness  to  fault  and 
kindness  to  virtue.  It  is  notorious  that  the  loyalty  of  Prince- 
tonians  often  rises  into  rapture,  and  so,  to  be  outdone  by 
no  other,  I  must  close  with  an  effort  to  sketch  the  Prince- 
tonian  as  it  is  hoped  that  others  see  him,  and  so  throw  in 
his  weaknesses  first  and  in  shadow. 

Thomas  Jefferson  was  a  man  very  careless  in  dress,  and 
without  even  an  affectation  of  that  strange  but  desirable 
thing  we  call  style,  as  Mr.  Adams,  the  latest  and  best  his- 
torian of  his  first  administration,  testifies.  Evidence,  how- 
ever, is  adduced  to  show  that  he  was  in  this  respect  like 
the  class  of  Virginia  gentlemen  to  whom  he  belonged. 
Something  of  that  old  influence  still  lingers  in  the  uni- 
versity where  so  many  of  them  were  educated,  and  there  is 
a  lounging  easiness  of  garb  and  manner  in  the  student  at 
work  in  Princeton  which  many  would  gladly  see  at  the  van- 
ishing-point. Athletics  have  introduced  motley  costumes, 
from  the  head-gear  to  the  shoes,  and  these  too  often  appear 


154  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

where  they  have  no  relation  whatever  to  the  matters  in 
hand  at  the  time.  Born  perhaps  of  the  same  pai'entage,  but 
incidental  to  young  manhood,  is  a  certain  wilfulness,  or 
rather  proneness,  to  accept  very  little  on  authority.  In  for- 
mer days  there  was  an  old-fashioned  attitude  of  defiance 
towards  the  faculty  which  came  of  separation  and  misunder- 
standing. This  began  to  disappear  when  the  college  weekly 
was  transformed  from  a  critical  journal  into  a  daily  news- 
paper. For  a  time  also  there  existed  a  formal  conference- 
committee,  composed  of  professors  and  students ;  this  com- 
pleted the  process  of  reconciliation,  and,  having  done  its 
work,  no  longer  exists.  The  students,  for  example,  take 
entire  charge  of  the  honor  question  in  examinations.  The 
case  of  any  one  suspected  of  dishonesty  is  investigated  by 
them,  and  the  culprit,  if  he  prove  to  be  one,  is  reported  by 
them  to  the  faculty  for  expulsion.  It  is  but  occasionally 
that  any  ill-considered  or  headstrong  opposition  to  consti- 
tuted authority  is  shown.  There  is  always  the  crumpled 
rose-leaf,  and  where  wellnigh  the  whole  undergraduate  life 
is  independent,  having  its  initiative  within  itself,  whether 
as  to  choice  in  work,  or  in  the  literary  societies,  or  in  the 
management  of  gymnastics,  sports,  and  intercollegiate  con- 
tests, it  is  not  unnatural  that  something  of  the  same  force 
should  go  over  into  departments  where  the  youth  is  still  in 
tutelage  and  under  the  strong  hand  of  control. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  absolute  equality  and  democracy 
produced  by  the  meeting  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men 
from  everywhere  compel  the  wiping  off  of  old  prejudice 
and  predisposition.  Nothing  is  so  pre-eminently  charac- 
teristic of  Princeton  student  life  as  this.  The  univer- 
sity puts  its  stamp  indelibly  on  the  renewed  surface ;  the 
Frincetonian  is  ever  amenable  to  just  discipline,  and  sub- 


PM1XCET0X  UNIVERSITY  155 

mits  with  grace  to  regulations  which  must  be  stringent 
where  the  exercise  of  the  civil  power  is  largely  in  the  hands 
of  men  dependent  for  a  livelihood  on  the  good- will  and 
patronage  of  the  students,  in  a  community  where,  therefore, 
the  highest  exhibition  of  law  and  its  majesty  is  in  the  fiat 
of  the  university  administration.  Such  a  combination  of 
needful  obedience  and  equally  needful  command  in  young 
men  produces  strong  character,  and  in  the  great  centres  and 
among  the  learned  professions  Princetonians  hold  their  own, 
with  a  body  of  experience  behind  them  as  valuable  in  real 
life  as  it  was  in  the  schools.  The  Princetonian  is  perhaps 
bluff,  but  he  is  also  tender;  he  sees  straight  and  behaves 
promptly,  but  not  ruthlessly;  he  marks  down  a  sham  quick- 
ly, and  is  not  given  to  toadying ;  he  has  reverence  for  much 
in  this  world  and  the  next,  and  is  not  given  to  theoretical 
"  isms,"  honestly  respecting  things  which  have  their  roots 
in  the  experience  of  the  past  and  in  the  institutions  of  his 
country,  himself  among  the  number. 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY 


IV 


^?Pl(gK@)HE  amazing  development  of  the  commerce  and 
■^1  manufactures  of  New  York  is  patent  to  all  of 
It  us  ;  we  cannot  help  seeing  it ;  but  most  of  us 
have  found  it  easy  to  overlook  the  development 
of  the  intellectual  life  of  the  cit\T,  which  is  equally  amazing. 
Sixty  years  ago  the  literary  centre  of  the  United  States 
was  probably  in  Philadelphia;  thirty  years  ago  it  was  cer- 
tainly in  Boston ;  to-day,  few  could  deny  that  it  is  in  New 
York,  when  it  is  remembered  that  four  out  of  every  live  of 
the  great  monthly  magazines  and  weekly  journals  are  is- 
sued from  this  city,  and  that  a  very  large  proportion  of  the 
American  men  of  letters  of  to-day  live  in  or  near  the  me- 
tropolis. And  here,  on  Manhattan  Island,  are  congregated 
also  the  most  of  the  prominent  artists  of  America — paint- 
ers, sculptors,  decorators,  and  architects. 

New  York  is  so  used  to  its  commercial  supremacy  of 
America  that  we  New-Yorkers  forget  that  this  primacy  of 
New  York  is  the  growth  of  a  century  only.  In  1790  the 
population  of  New  York  was  33,131,  while  that  of  Boston 
was  18,03S,  and  of  Philadelphia,  28,522.  "  So  late  as  1709," 
said  Mr.  Seth  Low,  in  one  of  the  addresses  he  made  when 
he  was  installed  as  President  of  Columbia  College,  "it  was 
considered  a  rash  prediction  that  New  York  might  one  day 
equal  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  as  a  commercial  city  "  ;  and 


160  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

President  Low  took  pride  in  pointing  out  that  it  was  to  a 
son  of  Columbia,  Pe  Witt  Clinton,  that  we  owe  the  Erie 
Canal  and  the  ensuing  mercantile  supremacy  of  this  city. 

A  development  as  remarkable  as  that  which  has  taken 
place  in  the  commerce  of  New  York  withiu  the  past  hun- 
dred years,  or  as  that  which  has  taken  place  in  the  intellect- 
ual life  of  New  York  within  the  past  fifty  years,  has  taken 
place  in  Columbia  College  within  the  past  twenty -five 
years.  From  what  was  a  little  college  of  the  narrow  in- 
land type  only  a  score  or  so  of  years  ago,  Columbia  has 
grown  into  a  large  university  worthy  of  a  mighty  city. 
This  growth  has  been  so  gradual  that  many  even  of  the 
graduates  of  the  college  fail  entirely  to  appreciate  the  fact 
or  to  grasp  its  significance.  So  it  is  that  those  of  us  who 
have  followed  the  expansion  of  our  alma  muter  are  never 
surprised  when  we  hear  Columbia  treated  now  as  a  small 
college  and  then  as  a  great  university.  We  are  not  sur- 
prised because  we  recognize  that  both  of  these  descriptions 
are  fairly  accurate.  Columbia  is  at  once  a  small  college 
and  a  great  university. 

To  explain  this  paradox,  one  needs  only  to  draw  attention 
to  the  exact  meaning  now  attached  to  the  words  college 
and  university,  formerly  treated  as  though  they  were  al- 
most synonymous,  and  even  to-day  often  carelessly  con- 
founded. In  a  sentence  or  two  it  is  not  easy  to  make  clear 
that  distinction  between  these  words  which  is  now  gaining 
acceptance  in  America,  and  which  is  quite  different  from 
that  obtaining  in  England,  where  a  college  is  a  component 
part  of  a  university  (much  as  New  York  is  one  of  the 
United  States) ;  but  the  attempt  must  be  made.  What  the 
American  college  is  we  all  know ;  it  is  an  institution  aim- 
ing to  give  its  students,  in  a  four  years'  course,  what  is  called 


BIRD'S-EYE    VIEW   OF  COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY 
Looking  North  from  Forty-ninth  Street, 


COLUMBIA    VXlYEllhlTY 


161 


a  liberal  education.  What  an  American  university  ought 
to  be  we  are  beginning  to  perceive  ;  it  is  an  institution  aim- 
ing1 to  jruide  its  students  in  advanced  work  and  to  train 
them  in  investigation.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  college  to  give 
breadth ;  it  is  the  duty  of  the  university  to  give  depth. 
The  students  who  apply  to  a  university  for  further  instruc- 


PRESIDEXT    SETH    LOW 


tion  are  supposed  already  to  have  a  liberal  education ;  in 
other  words,  the  university  begins  where  the  college  leaves 
off.  The  college  should  send  forth  men  of  culture ;  the  uni- 
versity should  take  some  of  these  men  and  carry  their  edu- 
cation further  and  make  each  of  them  master  of  a  specialty. 
11 


162  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

Perhaps  concrete  examples  will  best  emphasize  the  dis- 
tinction :  for  instance,  Amherst  is  a  fine  specimen  of  the 
American  college  of  to-day,  while  Johns  Hopkins,  although 
not  yet  at  its  full  development,  suggests  the  type  of  the 
American  university  of  to-morrow. 

"  If  I  am  right,"  said  Mr.  Seth  Low,  in  his  presidential 
address  at  a  recent  convention  of  the  College  Association  of 
the  Middle  States,  "  the  difference  between  a  college  and  a 
university  is  to  a  great  extent  a  difference  in  aim."  Accept- 
ing this  view,  it  is  obvious  that  only  evil  can  result  from  any 
confusion  of  purpose  —  from  the  attempt,  for  example,  to 
crowd  university  work  into  a  college  curriculum.  But 
there  is  no  reason  why  the  university  and  the  college  should 
not  form  parts  of  the  same  institution,  each  keeping  strictly 
to  its  own  aims,  and  each  aiding  the  other.  This  is  the  state 
of  affairs  at  Columbia ;  the  college  and  the  university  exist 
side  by  side,  and  yet  perfectly  distinct.  The  college  is  a 
small  college ;  if  we  reckon  by  the  number  of  its  undergrad- 
uates, it  is  no  larger  than  Amherst.  The  university  is  a 
great  university ;  if  we  reckon  by  the  number  of  its  stu- 
dents, there  are  now  only  three  larger  in  the  United  States, 
— Harvard,  Yale,  and  the  University  of  Michigan. 

Founded  more  than  a  century  after  Harvard,  a  little  more 
than  half  a  century  after  Yale,  and  only  eight  years  after 
Princeton,  King's  College  began  to  give  instruction  in  1754, 
under  a  charter  which  placed  among  the  first  governors 
ministers  not  only  of  the  Church  of  England,  but  also  of 
the  Presbyterian,  the  Lutheran,  the  Dutch  Keformed,  and 
the  French  Protestant  churches,  and  which  provided  that 
these  governors  should  make  no  laws  "  to  exclude  any  Per- 
son of  any  religious  Denomination  whatever-  from  equal 
Liberty  and  Advantages,  or  from  any  of  the  Degrees,  Lib- 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY 


163 


erties,  Privileges,  Benefits,  or  Immunities  of  the  said  Col- 
lege, on  Account  of  his  particular  Tenets  in  Matters  of 
Religion." 

The  first  class  of  eight  students  was  taught  in  the  ves- 
try-room of  the  school-house  attached  to  Trinity  Church ; 
and  in  the  year  after  the  college  opened  the  church  granted 
to  it  a  piece  of  ground  "  in  the  skirts  of  the  city/'  On  this 
land,  bounded  by  Church,  Barclay,  and  Murray  Streets,  the 
governors  erected,  in  1756,  a  building  thirty  feet  wide  by 
one  hundred  and  eighty  long;  and  in  this  building  —  the 
situation  of  which  is  now  commemorated  by  the  street 
called  College  Place — the  college  remained  for  a  century. 

Here  Alexander  Hamilton  and  John  Jay  and  Gouver- 
neur  Morris  laid  the  foundations  of  their  knowledge.  Here 
the  college  was  revived  after  the  Revolution — King's  Col- 
lege no  longer,  but  Columbia — -the  first  use  of  the  name 
of  Columbus  in  connection  with  any  of  the  institutions  of 
the  continent  he  had  discovered.     Here  the  new  Columbia 


KING  s  COLLEGE—  From  mi  Old  Print 


164  FOUR  AMERICAS  USIVERSITIES 

College  graduated  De  Witt  Clinton  and  Hamilton  Fish,  who 
worthily  continued  the  tradition  of  Hamilton  and  Jay. 
Here  the  college  saw  the  city  —  which  had  had  only  ten 
thousand  inhabitants  when  the  first  class  of  freshmen  met — 
grow  steadily  and  sturdily  until  its  population  had  increased 
fifty-fold  in  the  space  of  a  century. 

Then,  in  1S57,  a  hundred  and  three  years  after  its  foun- 
dation, Columbia  College  transplanted  itself  to  the  corner 
of  Madison  Avenue  and  49th  Street,  a  situation  at  that 
time  as  obviously  "in  the  skirts  of  the  city"  as  the  orig- 
inal grounds  had  been  when  the  college  first  took  posses- 
sion of  them.  Although  this  was  never  intended  to  be 
more  than  a  temporary  resting  -  place,  pending  the  selec- 
tion of  a  permanent  site,  the  college  will  have  remained 
there  nearly  forty  years.  There  Charles  Anthon  concluded 
his  useful  career ;  there  Henry  Drisler  brought  to  an  end 
fifty  years  of  honorable  service  ;  there  President  Barnard 
broadened  the  instruction,  and  enriched  the  courses,  and 
made  ready  for  the  expansion  of  the  college  into  a  univer- 
sity, which  took  place  there  after  he  had  been  succeeded 
by  Mr.  Low. 

Buildings  were  erected  one  after  another  as  necessity 
demanded,  among  them  a  nobly  planned  library  and  a 
group  of  lecture-rooms  called  Hamilton  Hall,  in  honor  of 
the  most  distinguished  of  Columbia's  sons.  At  last  there 
was  no  room  for  any  more  buildings,  and  still  the  college 
was  crowded  and  cramped  and  uncomfortable.  Again  the 
city  had  grown  up  and  surrounded  the  college,  and  again 
came  the  irresistible  demand  for  removal.  While  the  col- 
lege itself  had  increased  the  number  of  its  scholars,  it  had 
slowly  surrounded  itself  with  technical  schools  more  than 
one  of  which  had  in  attendance  on  its  courses  more  stu- 


COLUMBIA    UXIYEIMITY 


165 


dents  than  the  college  itself.  The  problem  that  faced  Mr. 
Low  when  he  assumed  the  presidency,  in  1890,  was  two- 
fold ;  it  was  at  once  internal  and  external ;  it  was  first  to 
develop  the  organization  so  as  to  show  the  exact  condition 
of  the  college  and  its  relation  to  the  elements  of  a  univer- 
sity which  were  in  existence  on  all  sides  of  it  ;  and,  sec- 
ondly, to  find  a  piece  of  land  somewhere  "  in  the  skirts 


COLUMBIA    COLLEGE    (1S50) 


of  the  city"  to  which  Columbia  might  remove  finally,  and 
on  which  it  might  expand  freely  and  indefinitely. 

Of  the  technical  schools  which  had  slowly  clustered  about 
Columbia,  the  earliest  was  the  School  of  Medicine.  In  1767 
Columbia,  then  King's  College,  established  the  first  medical 
faculty  in  New  York  and  the  second  in  the  colonies.  In 
1814:  the  professors  were  allowed  to  resign  in  order  to  be- 
come the  faculty  of  the  independent  College  of  Physicians 
11* 


166  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

and  Surgeons  founded  some  seven 
years  before.  In  1860,  by  joint 
resolution  of  its  trustees  and  those 
of  Columbia,  this  College  of  Phy- 
sicians and  Surgeons  became  the 
medical  department  of  Columbia, 
copper  crown  on  cupola  but  for  thirty  years  the  connection 
between  the  two  was  little  more 
than  an  alliance.  In  1891  this  alliance  was  turned  into  a 
union,  the  College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons  (which  had 
been  a  proprietary  medical  school)  surrendering  its  indepen- 
dence and  becoming  an  integral  part  of  Columbia.  Thus 
Columbia  acquired  not  only  lands,  buildings,  and  funds  val- 
ued at  one  and  three-quarter  millions  of  dollars,  but  it  gained 
also  a  medical  department  of  the  highest  reputation,  fully 
manned,  and  fully  equipped.  High  as  has  been  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons  in  the  past, 
it  is  likely  to  be  yet  higher  in  the  future,  for  the  consolida- 
tion with  Columbia  has  enabled  the  trustees  to  increase  the 
requirements,  both  for  admission  find  for  graduation,  thus 
raising  the  standard  of  medical  education,  without  regard 
to  the  probable  decrease  in  the  number  of  students  which 
such  a  course  might  entail  temporarily,  and  without  regard 
to  the  consequent  decrease  in  the  fees  which  had  hitherto 
been  the  sole  support  of  the  school.  It  is  the  opinion  of 
many  of  those  best  able  to  judge  that  in  the  history  of  med- 
ical education  in  America  there  is  no  more  important  step 
than  this  taking  over  by  Columbia  of  the  College  of  Physi- 
cians and  Surgeons. 

The  second  of  the  technical  schools  to  come  into  exist- 
ence was  the  School  of  Law.  As  far  back  as  1798  the  col- 
lege had  a  professorship  of  law,  the  professor  being  James 


: 


C  -  ■  - 


HAMILTON    HALL 


Kent  ;  and  Columbia  proudly  recalls  the  fact  that  it  was  to 
her  students  that  Chancellor  Kent  first,  delivered  his  famous 
Commentaries  on  American  Law,  originally  published  in 
1826.  But  it  was  not  until  1858  that  the  School  of  Law  was 
formally  organized,  with  the  late  Theodore  W.  Dwight  as 
its  warden.  As  a  teacher  of  law,  as  an  expounder  of  princi- 
ples, Dr.  Dwight  had  no  rival  in  our  time ;  his  lucidity  was 
marvellous.  Under  his  management  the  Columbia  Law 
School  soon  became  one  of  the  foremost  in  the  country.  At 
first  he  was  almost  the  only  lecturer,  but  one  by  one  other 
chairs  were  created.  Dr.  Dwight  resigned  the  wardenship 
two  years  before  his  death  in  ls;»2;  and  methods  of  instruc- 


168  FOUli  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

tion  have  since  been  adopted  which  are  not  dependent,  as  his 
were,  upon  his  own  extraordinary  gift  of  exposition.  The 
course  of  instruction  has  been  lengthened  and  strengthened 
year  by  year,  and  the  staff  of  instructors  has  been  increased, 
while  the  students  have  also  the  privilege  of  attending  the 
lectures  on  public  law,  on  Eoman  law,  and  on  constitutional 
history  given  by  the  professors  of  the  School  of  Political 
Science. 

In  1864,  six  years  after  the  beginning  of  the  School  of 
Law,  Columbia  founded  a  School  of  Mines,  which  proved  its 
usefulness  at  the  very  first,  and  which  soon  attained  to  a 
foremost  position  among  the  technological  institutes  of 
America,  By  degrees  it  has  widened  its  scope,  until  it  has 
courses  not  only  in  mining  engineering,  but  also  in  civil, 
mechanical,  electrical,  and  sanitary  engineering.  It  is,  in 
fact,  a  school  of  applied  science  in  a  very  wide  sense  of  the 
term.  More  than  that,  it  is  also  a  school  of  architecture, 
having  at  the  head  of  this  department  Mr.  William  E.  Ware. 
Perhaps  the  School  of  Mines,  narrow  as  its  name  is,  offers 
as  much  instruction  in  applied  science  and  in  architecture 
as  any  institute  of  technology  in  America. 

Sixteen  years  after  the  School  of  Mines  was  started  Co- 
lumbia established  its  fourth  professional  school,  and  the 
first  one  which  was  not  intended  to  prepare  men  simply  for 
the  practice  of  a  profession.  The  School  of  Political  Sci- 
ence, founded  in  1880,  was  modelled  upon  the  Ecole  Libre 
des  Sciences  Politiques  of  Paris.  It  was  the  first  institution 
of  the  kind  to  be  opened  in  any  English-speaking  country. 
Its  purpose  is  "  to  give  students  a  complete  general  view  of 
all  the  subjects  of  public  polity,  both  internal  and  external, 
from  the  threefold  point  of  view  of  history,  law,  and  phi- 
losophy."    It  has  courses  in  history  —  political,  economic, 


A    HIT    OF   THK    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 


COLUMBIA    UN1YEKSITY  171 

legal,  constitutional,  and  diplomatic— in  political  philosophy, 
in  international,  constitutional,  and  administrative  law,  in 
comparative  jurisprudence,  in  political  economy,  finance, 
and  social  science.  From  the  beginning  the  School  of  Po- 
litical Science  has  maintained  a  high  standard,  admitting  no 
student  who  has  not  completed  a  college  course  to  the  end 
of  the  junior  year.  It  has  been  very  chary  of  its  degrees ;  it 
has  had  more  than  one  thousand  students,  and  it  has  grant- 
ed the  degree  of  Ph.D.  to  less  than  twoscore  of  them.  Its 
faculty  edits  the  Political  Science  Quarterly,  one  of  the  most 
authoritative  journals  of  its  class,  having  a  high  reputation 
both  in  this  country  and  in  Europe.  The  School  of  Polit- 
ical Science  is  in  part  a  symptom  and  in  part  a  cause  of 
that  revival  of  interest  in  political  speculation  here  in 
America  which  Mr.  Bryce  has  declared  to  be  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  of  recent  developments. 

When  Mr.  Seth  Low  was  called  to  the  presidency  of 
Columbia  in  1890  this  was  the  condition  in  which  he 
found  it.  The  college  itself  had  grown  but  little  in  the  pre- 
ceding half  century,  and  yet  around  the  college  four  flour- 
ishing professional  schools  had  grouped  themselves.  Al- 
though three  of  these  were  governed  by  the  trustees  of  the 
college,  each  maintained  its  own  independence,  and  made 
little  or  no  effort  towards  co-ordination  and  co-operation. 
Within  three  years  after  Mr.  Low's  accession  these  hetero- 
geneous bodies  were  brought  into  harmony,  the  College  of 
Physicians  and  Surgeons  becoming  in  fact  as  well  as  in 
name  the  Medical  School  of  Columbia. 

Already  in  1890  certain  of  the  professors  of  the  college 
had  begun  to  give  courses  intended  primarily  for  graduate 
students.  From  this  nucleus  was  evolved,  partly  by  the 
establishment  of  new  chairs  'and  partly  by  re-assignment 


172  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

of  existing  professorships,  the  School  of  Philosophy,  which 
conducts  the  advanced  courses  in  philosophy,  philology,  and 
letters.  To  this  faculty  are  committed  English,  both  lan- 
guage and  literature,  Greek  and  Latin,  French  and  German, 
Italian  and  Spanish,  Sanskrit  and  Avestan,  Hebrew  and 
Assyrian ;  to  it  the  courses  in  philosophy,  in  psychology,  in 
ethics,  and  in  the  history  and  principles  of  education  are  also 
intrusted. 

In  like  manner  a  School  of  Pure  Science  was  formed  by 
the  creation  of  a  department  of  biology  with  four  instructors 
and  by  the  transfer  from  the  School  of  Mines  of  the  chairs 
of  botany  and  astronomy.  The  professors  of  geology,  math- 
ematics, chemistry,  physics,  and  physiology  have  also  seats 
in  this  faculty.  (Indeed,  it  is  not  at  all  uncommon  for  a 
Columbia  professor  to  sit  in  two  faculties,  whenever  his 
subject  is  one  which  is  difficult  to  assign  precisely  to  either, 
or  which  really  belongs  to  both.)  In  the  departments  of  bi- 
ology and  physiology  unusual  advantages  are  offered  to  ad- 
vanced students,  for  whose  use  tables  are  especially  sub- 
scribed for  in  the  marine  station  at  Wood's  Holl. 

Of  these  six  schools  which  thus  clustered  about  Colum- 
bia three  were  primarily  technical,  intended  to  train  men 
to  practise  as  physicians  and  law}rers,  as  engineers  and  ar- 
chitects; and  yet  even  these  professional  schools  felt  the 
broadening  influence  of  their  close  association  with  an  in- 
stitution intended  to  give  a  liberal  education.  The  other 
three  schools — that  of  Political  Science,  that  of  Philosophy, 
and  that  of  Pure  Science — were  not  technical  schools  at 
all;  they  were  really  university  faculties  offering  advanced 
courses  chiefly  to  post-graduate  students.  Taken  altogether, 
these  three  schools  may  be  called  the  Columbia  equivalent 
of  what  at   Harvard  is  termed  the  Graduate  School.     In 


STAIRWAY    LEADING    TO    LIBRARY 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY  175 

1894—95  they  announced  nearly  500  courses  intended  for 
graduates  —  more  than  30  in  classical  philology,  20  in  ro- 
mance philology,  30  in  philosophy  and  education,  more  than 
20  in  Oriental  languages,  30  in  English,  30  in  history  and 
political  philosophy,  30  in  public  law  and  comparative  ju- 
risprudence, 30  in  economics  and  social  science,  10  in  bot- 
any, and  10  in  biolog}'.  Here,  perhaps,  is  the  best  place  to 
note  that  there  are  now  24  University  Fellowships  (each  of 
the  value  of  $500  a  year)  open  to  advanced  students  whether 
graduates  of  Columbia  or  of  any  other  college  maintaining 
equivalent  standards.  And  here,  also,  I  may  record  the 
recent  establishment  of  the  Columbia  University  Press, 
intended  to  do  for  Columbia  what  the  Clarendon  Press  does 
for  Oxford. 

Again  and  again  had  the  trustees  of  Columbia,  appreciat- 
ing the  opportunity  which  a  great  city  affords,  formula-ted 
projects  for  developing  the  college  into  a  true  university. 
A  special  effort  had  been  made  in  1857  to  establish  a  post- 
graduate course,  abandoned  after  the  first  year,  during 
which,  however,  Marsh  delivered  his  invaluable  lectures  on 
the  history  of  the  English  language.  Even  as  late  as  1857 
neither  the  college,  nor  the  city,  nor  the  country,  it  may  be 
admitted,  was  ready  for  post-graduate  work.  But  thirty- 
five  years  had  wrought  a  great  change :  Mr.  Eliot  had  re- 
made Harvard;  Mr.  Gilman  had  established  Johns  Hopkins; 
the  times  were  ripe  at  last.  In  the  college  itself  and  in  the 
schools  around  about  it  were  all  the  elements  of  a  great 
university  needing  only  formal  organization  and  cautious 
expansion.  The  unrelated  parts  had  to  be  welded  into  an 
organic  whole  ;  and  this  was  accomplished  before  the  end  of 
the  third  year  of  Mr.  Low's  administration. 

The  old  college  with  its  four-year  course  of  under-grad- 


176  FOUH  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

uate  work  was  distinguished  by  the  honored  name  of  the 
School  of  Arts,  and  with  it  Columbia  had  then  seven  schools; 
and  these  schools  together  constituted  a  university  covering 
every  department  of  the  great  European  universities  except 
the  faculty  of  theology — a  deficiency  since  made  good  by 
alliances  with  the  various  theological  seminaries  already 
established  in  the  city.  The  college  itself  had  its  traditions, 
which  were  jealously  guarded,  and  the  Medical  School,  the 
Law  School,  and  the  School  of  Mines  had  enjoyed  years  of 
autonomy.  In  the  new  organization  the  independence  of 
every  school  was  carefully  respected ;  and  in  matters  af- 
fecting itself  alone  it  was  allowed  to  continue  to  manage 
its  own  affairs  almost  as  freely  as  it  had  aforetime.  Ev- 
ery school  had  its  own  faculty,  who  elected  a  Dean  as  its 
administrative  head.  Every  school  sent  its  Dean  and  one 
other  elected  delegate  to  a  University  Council  presided 
over  by  the  President ;  and  to  this  University  Council  the 
trustees  have  given  a  certain  authority  over  internal  af- 
fairs. The  trustees  manage  the  finances  of  the  institu- 
tion, they  appoint  the  more  important  officers,  and  they 
have  a  right  of  veto  on  the  acts  of  the  University  Council. 
The  several  faculties,  on  the  other  hand,  meet  monthly  to 
discuss  their  own  needs,  each  having  two  representatives  on 
the  University  Council.  Thus,  while  the  trustees  retain  the 
financial  administration,  tbey  have  committed  the  general 
educational  administration  to  the  University  Council.  This 
organization  has  been  developed  out  of  the  exigencies  of  the 
situatiou ;  it  is  not  ideal,  perhaps,  yet  it  is  satisfactory  ;  it 
is  not  as  cumbrous  as  it  may  seem ;  it  has  given  Columbia  a 
government  at  once  solid  and  flexible,  apportioning  power 
and  responsibility  equitably  and  advantageously. 

It  was  this  special  organization,  peculiar  to  Columbia, 


EX-PRESIDEM'    FREDERICK    A.   P.   BARNARD 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY  179 

which  permitted  the  next  step  whereby  the  college  (that  is, 
the  School  of  Arts)  and  the  university  (that  is,  the  six  other 
schools)  were  more  closely  united,  and  whereby  a  new  solu- 
tion was  found  for  one  of  the  most  pressing  problems  now 
confronting  those  in  charge  of  the  higher  education  in  the 
United  States.  Within  the  past  quarter  of  a  century,  under 
the  lead  of  Harvard,  the  chief  American  colleges  have  been 
increasing  their  entrance  requirements,  with  the  result  of 
raising  the  average  age  of  the  student  at  graduation  nearly 
a  year.  "Within  the  last  ten  years  the  chief  schools  of  law 
and  of  medicine  have  lengthened  their  courses  of  study  to 
cover  three  and  four  years  instead  of  two.  In  consequence 
of  this  double  action  the  period  of  education  has  been  ex- 
tended unduly,  and  the  age  at  which  a  .young  man  is  pre- 
pared to  enter  upon  the  practice  of  his  profession  has  been 
postponed  for  quite  two  years.  That  this  is  a  hardship  no 
one  denied ;  and  it  presses  most  severely  upon  the  students 
who  seek  the  best  training,  for  it  is  only  at  the  best  col- 
leges and  at  the  best  schools  that  the  increase  has  taken 
place. 

Various  methods  of  meeting  the  difficulty  have  been  pro- 
posed. At  Harvard,  President  Eliot  has  suggested  that  a 
student  be  permitted  to  do  the  work  of  four  years  in  three 
— if  he  could.  At  Chicago,  President  Harper  has  divided  the 
college  year  into  quarters,  a  student  being  allowed  to  take 
any  quarter  in  the  year  as  a  vacation,  and  being  allowed  also 
to  go  without  vacation  if  he  chooses,  and  thus  to  take  the 
twelve  required  quarters  in  three  years  of  incessant  work. 
The  disadvantages  of  both  the  Harvard  plan  and  of  the  Chi- 
cago are  twofold — first,  they  allow  an  unwholesome  pressure 
continued  for  three  years  without  intermission;  and,  second, 
they  authorize  a  shortening  of  the  college  course  from  four 


180 


FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 


years  to  three,  and  so  permit  a  student  to  deprive  himself  of 
one-fourth  of  those  indirect  benefits  of  college  life,  which 
are  quite  as  important  as  the  direct  instruction  received  from 
the  professors.  In  the  atmosphere  of  a  good  college  there 
is  something   broadening;    and  in  the  daily  contact  with 


SILVER    MEDAL    OF    KING  S    COLLEGE — OBVERSE 


one's  classmates  there  is  something  awakening  and  stimulat- 
ing. Any  reduction  in  the  length  of  the  college  course  must 
needs  reduce  these  advantages  proportionately. 

Wholly  different  from  the  plans  of  Harvard  and  Chicago 
is  that  which  has  been  adopted  at  Columbia,  and  which  was 
possible  only  in  a  college  forming  part  of  a  great  university. 
No  man  can  graduate  from  Columbia  in  less  than  four  years, 
but  the  instruction  given  by  the  School  of  Arts  (that  is,  by 
the  college  strictly  so  called)  ceases  at  the  end  of  the  Junior 
year ;  and  in  the  Senior  year  the  student  is  free  to  select  his 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY 


181 


courses  from  among  those  offered  by  the  six  university  fac- 
ulties. He  must  elect  a  total  of  fifteen  hours  a  week,  but 
under  certain  restrictions  he  can  take  these  where  he  pleases 
— in  the  School  of  Philosophy  or  in  the  School  of  Political 
Science,  in  the  School  of  Pure  Science  or  in  the  School  of 
Mines.  He  may,  if  he  choose,  take  the  first  year's  work  in 
the  Law  School  or  in  the  Medical  School ;  and  his  work  will 
count  for  the  A.B.  degree,  and  also  for  the  M.D.  or  LL.B., 
as  the  case  may  be.  Pie  cannot  take  the  A.B.  degree  in  less 
than  four  years,  but  if  he  intends  also  to  take  an  M.D.,  or  an 


SILVER    MEDAL    OF    KINGS    COLLEGE — REVERSE 


LL.B.,  or  a  B.S.  (in  architecture,  for  example),  or  an  M.E., 

he  can  shorten  by  one  year  the  time  required  to  take  both 

degrees. 

But  he  remains  a  Senior;  the  class  organization  is  kept 

intact ;   the  class  feeling  continues ;   the  college   spirit  is 
12* 


182  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

alight;  the  student  is  still  an  under -graduate;  he  is  still 
touching  elbows  with  his  classmates,  however  widely  they 
may  be  scattered  through  the  various  schools ;  he  is  still 
breathing  the  atmosphere  of  culture.  It  is  this  :  it  is  the 
privilege  of  stimulative  companionship;  it  is  the  obligation 
to  consider  higher  things  than  mere  bread-and-butter  stud- 
ies; it  is  the  association  with  ardent  spirits  full  of  youth- 
ful ambitions — it  is  this  which  is  the  best  gift  a  college  has 
in  its  hands.  By  the  Harvard  proposition  and  by  the 
Chicago  project  the  college  course  could  be  cut  down  a 
year,  and  an  under-graduate  could  cut  himself  out  of  one- 
fourth  of  this  precious  having.  By  the  Columbia  plan  the 
year  is  saved  in  both  ways — the  under-graduate  is  doing  a 
post-graduate  work ;  but  by  so  doing  he  is  yet  getting  the 
benefits  of  a  full  four -years'  course.  In  other  words,  the 
old  college — the  School  of  Arts — has  been  put  under  the 
professional  schools,  and  thus  made  the  foundation  of  the 
university. 

If  the  undergraduate  does  not  intend  to  be  a  lawyer  or 
a  physician,  if  he  does  not  desire  to  pursue  one  of  the 
learned  professions,  if  he  is  studying  merely  for  culture  and 
training  and  to  fit  himself  for  the  battle  of  life,  then  he 
loses  nothing  by  this  plan,  for  in  his  Senior  year  he  chooses 
his  whole  fifteen  hours  in  the  schools  of  Political  Science 
and  of  Philosophy,  and  of  Pure  Science,  where  he  has  the 
incalculable  advantage  of  studying  side  by  side  with  post- 
graduates already  imbued  with  university  ideals.  Thus  he 
soon  has  occasion  to  discover  that  the  difference  between 
college  tasks  and  university  work  is  not  merely  quantita- 
tive, but  qualitative  also,  and  that  where  the  college  sought 
to  give  breadth  the  university  seeks  to  give  depth.  He 
finds  out  that  it  is  not  the  size  of  its  enrolment  that  makes 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY  183 

the  greatness  of  a  university,  but  the  originality  of  its  in- 
structors and  the  spirit  of  its  students. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  raising  of  the  age  of  gradua- 
tion  in  our  colleges  and  the  simultaneous  lengthening  of  the 
course  of  the  professional  schools  have  had  a  tendency  to 
deter  men  who  had  resolved  to  be  lawyers  or  physicians, 
engineers  or  architects,  from  taking  the  college  course  as 
a  preliminary  to  their  professional  studies.  President  Low 
has  expressed  his  belief  that  the  system  introduced  at  Co- 
lumbia will  do  much  to  offset  this  unfortunate  tendencv. 
Columbia,  so  its  President  declared  in  his  report  for  1892, 
"  does  not  offer  men  less,  but  greater,  inducements  to  con- 
tinue their  non-professional  studies,  if  they  can,  for  the  full 
period  of  four  years.  More  than  this,  while  they  are  pursu- 
ing their  professional  work,  all  the  resources  of  the  univer- 
sity are  at  their  command  to  enable  them  to  continue  other 
studies  which  interest  them  or  to  make  good  deficiencies." 
And  Mr.  Low  added  that  "it  is  .too  soon  to  speak  with  cer- 
tainty, but  it  is  believed  that  the  result  of  this  system  will  be 
to  keep  many  men  at  Columbia  for  six  years  who  otherwise 
would  stay  but  four  years  in  the  School  of  Arts,  or  even  a 
shorter  time  in  one  of  the  professional  schools  only."  The 
college  having  thus  been  made  what  it  should  be,  the  foun- 
dation of  the  university,  the  Seniors  cannot  but  be  tempted 
to  further  graduate  work  in  the  future ;  probably  many 
more  men  will  remain  a  fifth  year  at  least,  to  take  the 
A.M.  degree,  and  it  is  a  fact  that  in  1894  there  were  more 
than  a  hundred  graduates  of  the  college  continuing  their 
studies  there  under  one  or  more  of  the  university  fac- 
ulties. 

"Whatever  place  can  draw  together  the  greatest  amount 
and  the  greatest  variety  of  intellect  and  character,  the  most 


184  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

abundant  elements  of  civilization,  performs  the  best  func- 
tion of  a  university,"  said  Lowell ;  and  Newman  has  also 
suggested  that  a  great  city  is  a  university  in  itself.  Per- 
haps it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  only  in  a  great  city  can 
a  great  university,  with  its  allied  faculties,  be  maintained 
adequately.  And  as  the  distinction  between  the  American 
college  of  the  present,  remotely  modelled  on  the  British 
public-school,  and  the  American  university  of  the  future, 
broadly  patterned  after  the  German  universities  —  as  the 
distinction  between  these  institutions,  wholly  different  in 
purpose,  gets  to  be  better  apprehended,  and  as  the  true 
university  is  developed  here  and  there  throughout  the 
United  States,  probably  the  managers  of  most  of  the  coun- 
try colleges  will  discover  the  futility  of  any  attempt  to 
divert  these  institutions  from  their  path  of  usefulness  as 
colleges,  and  the  hopelessness  of  all  efforts  to  expand  them 
into  universities.  By  the  mere  fact  of  their  geographical 
position  certain  institutions  are  indicated  as  colleges,  and 
certain  others  are  suggested  as  possible  universities.  With- 
in a  radius  of  an  hour's  travel  by  rail,  Harvard  is  in  the 
centre  of  a  population  of  about  a  million ;  so  is  Johns  Hop- 
kins ;  so  is  the  new  University  of  Chicago.  Before  these 
three  institutions,  therefore,  lie  the  limitless  possibilities  of 
real  university  development.  Within  the  same  radius  about 
Columbia  there  is  a  population  nearly  as  large  as  the  sum 
of  the  populations  which  surround  Harvard  and  Johns 
Hopkins  and  the  University  of  Chicago. 

The  modern  university  needs  the  metropolis,  with  its 
museums,  its  galleries,  its  theatres,  its  libraries,  its  theo- 
logical seminaries,  its  art  schools,  its  conservatories  of 
music,  its  hospitals,  and  its  charitable  institutions.  The 
centre  of  education  in  France  is  in  Paris ;   the  new  Uni- 


COLUMBIA    UXIVERXITY  187 

versity  of  Berlin  has  pushed  rapidly  to  a  front  place  in 
Germany ;  the  University  of  Vienna  has  no  second  in  Aus- 
tro-Hungary ;  even  in  London  the  need  is  felt  of  a  teach- 
ing university  which  shall  gather  into  one  the  scattered 
educational  forces  of  the  British  capital.  The  semi-rural- 
ity  which  gives  Yale  and  Princeton,  for  example,  an  ad- 
vantage over  Columbia  as  a  college  becomes  a  distinct  dis- 
advantage when  they  seek  to  expand  into  universities.  By 
the  time  a  young  man  is  old  enough  to  undertake  univer- 
sity work  he  is  old  enough  to  take  care  of  himself  —  if 
he  ever  will  be. 

At  Columbia  the  college  holds  its  own  stanchly,  and  is 
now  stronger  and  more  firmly  established  than  ever  before, 
but  its  attendance  is  not  large ;  in  1891—95  it  has  less  than 
300  under-graduates,  while  the  total  number  of  students  at 
Columbia  this  year  is  about  2000 — of  whom  some  600  are 
graduates. 

That  students  from  all  parts  of  the  United  States  appre- 
ciate the  advantages  offered  by  Columbia  can  be  made  evi- 
dent by  a  few  figures.  The  constituency  of  Columbia  as  a 
college  is  mainly  local ;  its  constituency  as  a  university  is 
more  than  national :  it  is  international.  President  Low 
reported  that  in  1893-94:  the  575  graduate  students  at  Colum- 
bia represented  118  colleges  and  universities  in  the  United 
States  and  18  in  foreign  countries.  It  is  to  be  noted  that 
in  almost  every  American  university,  except  Johns  Hopkins 
and  Harvard,  the  graduate  students  are  principally  gradu- 
ates of  the  institution  at  which  they  are  continuing  their 
studies ;  at  Columbia,  in  1893-91,  only  102  of  the  575  gradu- 
ate students  came  from  the  college  itself.  This  indicates 
that  the  young  men  of  the  United  States  are  beginning  to 
understand  that  there  is  now  a  great  university  in  the  me- 


188  FOUR  AM  ERIC  AX   UXIVERSITIES 

tropolis  of  the  country  offering  opportunities  for  advanced 
study  not  surpassed  anywhere  else. 

Perhaps  no  other  symptom  of  the  recent  expansion  of 
Columbia  is  quite  as  striking  as  the  development  of  its 
library.  In  1S70  the  library  was  housed  in  a  single  room 
over  the  chapel ;  and  it  was  open  only  one  hour  a  day, 
five  days  in  the  week,  and  eight  months  in  the  year.  In 
1894  the  library  occupies  a  noble  building  of  its  own  ;  and 
it  is  open  fourteen  hours  a  day,  six  days  a  week,  twelve 
months  in  the  year.  Twenty -five  years  ago  it  had  some 
15,000  volumes  only  ;  now  it  has  nearly  200,000  bound  vol- 
umes, and  its  growth  in  a  single  year  has  almost  attained 
to  20.000  volumes.  The  students  have  absolutely  free  ac- 
cess to  the  shelves,  and  are  allowed  to  help  themselves  at 
will  to  such  books  as  they  wish  to  read  in  the  library  itself, 
a  privilege  of  which  they  avail  themselves  to  the  utmost. 
Thev  also  drew  out  in  1893-94  for  use  in  their  own  homes 
■±2,015  books  (not  volumes  merely). 

The  library  of  Columbia  is  also  the  depositary  and  cus- 
todian of  the  books  of  various  learned  societies.  Among 
its  own  special  departments  is  the  architectural  collection 
given  and  endowed  by  Mr.  S.  P.  Avery  in  memory  of  his 
son.  The  Avery  Architectural  Library  now  contains  more 
than  12,000-  volumes;  it  is  already  one  of  the  richest  in 
the  world  in  books  about  architecture,  art,  and  archaeology ; 
and,  thanks  to  the  constant  munificence  of  Mr.  Avery,  it  is 
steadily  enlarging. 

Nor  is  the  student  in  New  York  at  all  dependent  on  the 
library  of  Columbia,  for  he  has  access  not  o\\\y  to  the  Astor 
Library  and  the  Lenox  Library  (in  which  are  now  the  books 
of  George  Bancroft),  but  also  to  the  libraries  of  the  Bar 
Association  and  of  the  Academy  of  Medicine,  and  to  the 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY  189 

innumerable  special  collections  of  clubs  and  associations  and 
societies  which  abound  in  New  York  and  with  which  Co- 
lumbia has  the  most  friendly  relations. 

And  these  are  not  the  only  alliances  Columbia  has  made 
for  the  benefit  of  her  students.  From  the  beginning  the 
connection  of  the  School  of  Medicine  with  the  hospitals  has 
been  close.  Of  late  there  has  been  arranged  an  alliance,  so 
to  speak,  with  three  theological  seminaries,  whereby  Colum- 
bia gains  most  of  the  advantages  of  a  divinity  school,  and 
whereby  she  is  enabled  greatly  to  enlarge  the  opportunity 
for  new  combinations  of  study,  which  it  is  one  of  the  most 
important  duties  of  a  university  to  secure.  Friendly  rela- 
tions have  been  established  also  with  the  American  Muse- 
um of  Natural  History  and  with  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
of  Art,  and  in  both  museums  many  courses  of  lectures  have 
been  given  this  past  winter  by  professors  of  Columbia. 
Whenever  the  new  Botanic  Garden,  to  be  established  in 
Bronx  Park,  comes  into  being,  Columbia  will  be  able  to 
utilize  that  also,  under  arrangements  already  made,  where- 
by the  management  of  the  garden  has  been  offered  to  her. 
If,  as  may  be  hoped,  a  Zoological  Garden  follows  in  due 
course,  no  doubt  Columbia  will  be  able  to  make  a  treaty 
with  that  as  well. 

The  suggestion  thus  carried  out  was  due  to  Bishop  Potter. 
who  declared  several  years  ago  that  "  such  affiliation  of 
the  college  to  institutions  of  various  learning  around  it 
would  at  once  enlarge  their  usefulness  and  ennoble  our 
own,  and  go  far  towards  the  realization  of  one's  dream  of 
the  ideal  university."  The  alliance  between  Columbia 
and  the  theological  seminary,  like  that  between  Columbia 
and  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  is  evidence 
that  the  college  is  tending  to  take  its  place  as  the  core  of 


190  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

the  intellectual  life  of  New  York.  To  a  host  of  learned 
societies  having  no  formal  relation  to  the  college  itself, 
and  yet  working  towards  the  same  literary,  scientific,  his- 
torical, and  artistic  ends,  the  college  is  hospitable.  "  There 
are  some  twenty -rive  or  thirty  such  societies  practically 
domiciled  within  the  college  walls,  and  finding  there  their 
working  and  efficient  centre,"  said  Bishop  Potter,  who 
also  asked :  "  Did  you  ever  walk  up  Madison  Avenue  of  an 
evening?  For,  if  so,  you  must  have  seen  that  at  night  the 
windows  of  the  college  gleam  like  a  light -house  —  true 
symbol  of  the  illumination  that  streams  forth  on  every 
hand."  Not  wishing  to  keep  her  light  under  a  bushel,  Co- 
lumbia has  freely  aided  Cooper  Institute,  many  of  the  lect- 
ures there  being  now  given  under  the  authority  of  the  col- 
lege. 

With  two  other  of  the  institutions  of  New  York,  both 
educational,  the  relation  of  Columbia  is  almost  too  intimate 
to  be  called  an  alliance.  These  two  institutions  are  the 
Teachers  College  and  Barnard  College. 

The  Teachers  College  was  planned  and  founded  by  a 
Columbia  professor,  Mr.  Nicholas  Murray  Butler,  at  pres- 
ent Dean  of  the  School  of  Philosophy,  and  is  now,  so  far 
as  the  opportunities  for  students  are  concerned,  practically 
a  part  of  Columbia.  It  has,  however,  a  separate  board  of 
trustees  and  a  separate  financial  administration.  The  aim 
of  the  Teachers  College  is  to  train  highly  educated  and 
well-equipped  teachers  of  elementary  and  secondary  schools, 
as  well  as  superintendents,  supervisors,  and  specialists  in  the 
principles  and  practice  of  teaching.  It  maintains  a  school 
of  observation  and  practice.  In  spirit  and  in  method  it  is  a 
genuine  university  department— doubtless  the  most  exten- 
sive and  ambitious  as  yet  anywhere  developed  by  the  very 


Unassigned 


Un  assigned 


B.r.r..i    s  v. 


GENERAL    PLAN    OF   THE   GROUNDS    AND    BUILDINGS   OP   THE    NEW    COLUMBIA    COLLEGE 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY  193 

modern  movement  for  the  scientific  study  of  educational 
problems.  By  formal  contract  the  faculty  of  Philosophy  of 
Columbia  has  full  control  of  the  courses  at  the  Teachers 
College  leading  to  the  degrees  of  A.B.,  A.M.,  and  Ph.D. ;  and 
it  is  Columbia  which  grants  these  degrees  to  the  students  of 
the  Teachers  College. 

Barnard  College,  named  after  Mr.  Low's  predecessor  in 
the  presidency  of  Columbia  in  recognition  of  his  efforts 
to  further  the  higher  education  of  women,  is  a  college  for 
women  that  offers  the  same  collegiate  opportunities  to 
the  one  sex  that  the  School  of  Arts  offers  to  the  other. 
Most  of  the  instruction  at  Barnard  is  given  by  Columbia 
professors,  and  no  instructor  can  be  appointed  at  Barnard 
without  the  approval  of  the  President  of  Columbia.  In 
other  words,  while  Barnard  cannot  yet  proffer  to  its  students 
all  the  courses  offered  at  Columbia,  it  has  no  course  which 
is  not  given  at  Columbia  also ;  its  standards  are  absolutely 
equivalent ;  its  examinations,  both  semiannual  and  final,  are 
precisely  the  same ;  and  Columbia  grants  its  degrees  to  the 
Barnard  graduates.  It  is  pleasant  to  record  that  Barnai'd 
has  now  safely  passed  the  experimental  stage,  and  must  be 
reckoned  among  the  active  forces  in  the  higher  education 
of  the  country. 

Stress  has  here  been  laid  —  perhaps  unduly — upon  these 
partnerships  and  alliances  of  Columbia  because  it  is  only  by 
dwelling  on  such  arrangements  that  the  reader  can  be  made 
to  see  clearly  the  peculiar  position  of  the  university.  The 
disadvantages  under  which  a  college  labors  when  it  is  in  the 
centre  of  a  mighty  city  are  obvious  enough,  but  the  correla- 
tive advantages  are  not  so  easily  apparent  and  must  needs 
be  pointed  out.  So  also  the  present  organization  of  Colum- 
bia has  been  explained — perhaps  unduly — because  it  is  thus 

13 


194  FOUR  AMERICAN   UNIVERSITIES 

that  it  is  easiest  to  make  clear  to  the  reader  the  successive 
stages  of  the  expansion  of  the  college  into  the  university  of 
which  it  is  now  a  component  part. 

And  what  makes  it  far  more  difficult  for  any  one  to  seize 
and  report  upon  the  salient  features  of  Columbia  than  it  is 
to  perform  a  similar  service  for  Harvard  or  Yale  or  Prince- 
ton is  the  fact  that  this  inner  and,  so  to  speak,  spiritual  de- 
velopment of  Columbia  has  been  accompanied  by  a  physi- 
cal expansion  which  is  making  necessary  a  removal  to  a  site 
whereon  the  institution  may  find  room  to  spread  itself  free- 
ly and  indefinitely  in  the  future.  Once  more  Columbia  is 
about  to  transport  itself  to  "  the  skirts  of  the  city."  Its 
third  and  final  site  is  one  of  the  finest  possessed  by  any  uni- 
versity in  the  world.  It  is  on  the  plateau  between  Morning- 
side  Park  and  the  Riverside  Drive,  between  Grant's  Tomb 
and  the  new  cathedral  of  St.  John  the  Divine. 

In  1892  the  trustees  of  Columbia  bought  a  piece  of  land 
two  and  a  half  times  the  size  of  Madison  Square,  and  bound- 
ed by  116th  and  120th  streets,  Amsterdam  Avenue,  and  the 
Boulevard.  The  grounds  thus  acquired  are  a  little  larger 
than  the  Yale  campus  and  a  little  smaller  than  the  Har- 
vard yard.  After  consultation  with  a  committee  of  lead- 
ing architects  of  New  York  and  with  Mr.  Olmstead  (the 
designer  of  Central  Park),  the  trustees  of  Columbia  empow- 
ered Messrs.  McKim,  Mead  &  White  to  prepare  preliminary 
plans  for  the  disposition  of  the  chief  of  the  new  buildings 
with  which  these  new  grounds  are  to  be  adorned  and  made 
useful.  In  his  account  of  Harvard,  Professor  Norton  has 
declared  that  "  the  value  of  the  influence  of  noble  architect- 
ure, simple  as  it  may  be,  at  a  great  seat  of  education,  es- 
pecially in  our  country,  is  hardly  to  be  overestimated ;" 
and  he  thinks  that  it  has  been  so  disregarded  at  Harvard 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY  197 

that  it  would  be  a  work  of  patriotism  to  destroy  all  the 
later  buildings  there  and  reconstruct  them  "  with  simple  and 
beautiful  design,  in  mutually  helpful,  harmonious,  and  ef- 
fective relation  to  each  other,  so  that  the  outward  aspect 
of  the  university  should  better  conform  to  its  object  as  a 
place  for  the  best  education  of  the  youth  of  the  nation."  It 
is  such  a  reconstruction  as  this  that  Columbia  is  now  about 
to  attempt,  with  a  full  understanding  of  the  obligations  of 
so  great  an  opportunity  and  with  the  earnest  desire  to  erect 
buildings  not  only  perfect  for  their  several  purposes,  but 
beautiful  in  design,  and  related  one  to  another  harmoniously 
and  effectively. 

Some  of  the  halls  whose  positions  are  indicated  on  the 
ground-plan  finally  adopted  by  the  trustees  must  be  put  up 
before  the  university  can  be  removed ;  others  can  be  added 
from  year  to  year  as  they  are  needed,  and  as  the  money 
shall  be  given  for  their  erection.  The  cost  of  the  site  was 
$2,000,000,  and  the  plans  prepared  call  for  an  ultimate  ex- 
penditure of  some  $3,000,000  more,  for  which  the  college 
must  rely  on  the  liberality  of  its  friends,  and  on  the  gener- 
osity of  the  citizens  of  New  York. 

Here  occasion  serves  to  correct  a  current  misunderstand- 
ing. Columbia  College  is  popularly  supposed  to  be  very 
rich  ;  and  it  is  a  fact  that  only  one  or  two  universities  in  the 
United  States  are  as  heavily  endowed.  But  for  the  work 
before  it  Columbia  is  not  rich  enough.  Its  rent-roll  is  prob- 
ably as  large  now  as  it  is  ever  likely  to  be.  Its  budget  for 
1894-95  is  over  $700,000,  of  which  less  than  $300,000  comes 
from  the  fees  of  its  students.  Even  for  the  actual  work  of 
instruction  it  already  finds  itself  cramped,  so  broad  has  been 
its  recent  expansion.     As  President  Eliot  said  at  the  alumni 

dinner  which  followed  the  installation  of  President  Low  : 
13* 


198  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

"  It  is  simply  impossible  to  carry  on  a  great  university  in 
this  expensive  city  with  any  such  meagre  resources  as  those 
which  Columbia  now  possesses.  She  must  have  manifold 
more."  And  the  President  of  Harvard  told  us  that  he  spent 
$800,000  a  year,  and  that  Harvard  had  received  in  gifts  of 
money  within  a  score  of  years  $5,000,000  in  addition  to 
$2,500,000  worth  of  buddings  and  .lands.  The  trustees  of 
Columbia  have  wisely  decided  to  rely  on  gifts  and  bequests 
for  the  new  buildings  needed  on  the  new  grounds,  and  not 
to  divert  to  construction  any  of  the  money  they  now  use  in 
instruction,  holding  that  it  is  the  teaching  staff  which  makes 
a  university,  and  not  the  outward  show  of  bricks  and  mor- 
tar. 

In  no  respect  has  the  example  set  by  Johns  Hopkins  been 
more  useful  than  in  the  exhibition  by  its  first  president  of 
his  conviction  that  a  university  needs  a  soul  more  than  a 
body,  that  the  men  who  are  to  teach  in  it  are  more  impor- 
tant than  the  stone  walls  which  shelter  them.  It  was  Car- 
field  who  declared  that  Mark  Hopkins  at  the  other  end  of 
a  log  was  a  good  enough  college  for  him ;  but  he  thus  laid 
himself  open  to  the  obvious  retort  that  the  end  of  a  log  was 
not  a  good  enough  college  for  Mark  Hopkins.  Whether  or 
not  the  teaching  staff  of  Columbia  numbers  on  its  roll  a 
Mark  Hopkins  need  not  now  be  discussed ;  it  does  number 
many  sincere  investigators  and  many  earnest  instructors. 
Although  there  is  more  than  one  new  chair  which  we  hope 
to  see  soon  established,  the  list  of  instructors  is  already 
very  large — larger  than  at  any  other  American  university 
excepting  only  Harvard  —  and  for  purposes  of  advanced 
work  perhaps  the  largest  of  all.  Omitting  the  fellows,  who 
give  no  instruction,  and  omitting  wholly  the  staff  of  the 
library,  in  1893-94  there  were  25S  professors,  lecturers,  tu- 


n 


* 


-»-•— 


PROPOSED    DESIGN    FOR    THE    NEW    LIBRARY    B0ILDING VIEW    OK    THE    FRONT    RACING 

ONE    HUNDRED    AND    SIXTEENTH    STREET 


tors,  and  assistants  of  one  kind  or  another  engaged  in  the 
actual  work  of  instruction. 

It  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  declare  that  the  relations  of 
the  instructors  and  the  students  are  satisfactory.  Of  the 
2000  students,  about  600  are  graduates,  and  the  presence  of 
so  many  maturer  scholars  has  a  wholesome  effect  in  raising 
the  standard  of  college  ethics.  The  under-graduates  are 
treated  as  gentlemen,  and  they  are  expected  to  behave  as 
gentlemen :  rarely,  indeed,  is  this  expectation  disappointed. 
Discipline  is  as  mild  as  may  be ;  and  the  student  has  thus 
the  wholesome  freedom  which  trains  him  in  self-control. 
Now  and  again  the  freshmen  and  the  sophomores  rush 
against  each  other  in  serried  ranks ;  and  here  and  there  we 


200  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

have  outbreaks  of  animal  spirits,  to  be  considered  not  as 
evidences  of  total  depravity,  but  to  be  accepted  rather  as 
"  useful  conductors  for  the  natural  electricity  of  youth,"  to 
use  Lowell's  apt  phrase,  "dispersing  it  or  turning  it  harm- 
lessly into  the  earth." 

The  chief  student  festivals  are  the  Triumph  of  the  Soph- 
omores, the  Junior  ball,  and  Class-day.  Under  the  assimilat- 
ing influence  of  the  secret  societies,  the  literary  societies, 
the  musical  clubs,  and  the  athletic  association,  the  under- 
graduates of  the  Arts  and  of  the  Mines  foregather  now  far 
more  than  they  did  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  It  must  be 
confessed  that  in  the  absence  of  dormitories  the  student 
body  of  Columbia  perhaps  lacks  a  little  of  the  homogeneity 
to  be  found  in  some  other  institutions.  But  the  under-grad- 
uate  gets  his  share  of  college  life  for  all  that,  and  he  finds 
his  enjoyment  in  it ;  and  he  has  a  marked  character  of  his 
own.  He  has  the  urban  characteristics ;  he  takes  polish 
easily ;  he  wears  well.  In  their  association  with  men 
from  other  colleges  the  students  of  Columbia  have  won  the 
double  reputation  of  being  gentlemen  and  of  having  pluck. 
Their  athletic  record  has  been  marred  by  no  squabbles,  and 
even  in  defeat  they  have  showed  grit  to  the  end.  They  are 
not  unlike  the  city  troops  in  the  Civil  War,  which,  although 
they  might  seem  slight  in  build,  turned  out  well  and  stood 
the  strain  as  sturdily  as  any. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  Columbia  is  not  one  of  the  great 
athletic  centres  of  the  country ;  and  for  this  there  are  many 
reasons,  some  of  which  are  temporary  only  and  will  tend  to 
disappear  when  Columbia  is  firmly  established  on  its  new 
site.  The  college  has  been  cramped  in  a  single  city  block, 
with  no  grounds  for  exercise,  and  with  no  adequate  gymna- 
sium until  the  fall  of  1893 ;  and,  therefore,  athletic  work 


COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY  201 

was  undertaken  under  most  adverse  circumstances.  Yet 
Columbia  has  won  a  race  now  and  then  ;  and  it  once  sent 
its  four  over  to  Henley  and  carried  off  the  Visitor's  Cup. 
It  has  held  the  tennis  championship,  and  in  track  athletics 
its  record  is  highly  honorable. 

Of  all  the  agencies  which  advertise  a  college  as  distin- 
guished  from  a  university  none  is  superior  to  a  successful 
eight  on  the  river,  to  a  victorious  nine  on  the  baseball  dia- 
mond, to  a  triumphant  eleven  on  the  football  field.  Second 
only  to  these,  as  a  means  of  attracting  students,  are  its  own 
graduates  who  have  won  positions  in  other  institutions.  Un- 
til within  the  past  ten  or  fifteen  years  Columbia  sent  forth 
but  few  educators.  Of  late  she  has  seen  her  sons  appointed 
to  many  important  professorships  throughout  the  country. 
But  in  the  past  she  trained  more  publicists  than  professors. 
The  tradition  of  Hamilton  and  Jay  has  always  been  strong, 
and  there  has  been  no  time  since  the  Revolution  when  a  very 
large  proportion  of  the  men  prominent  in  the  public  life  of 
New  York  were  not  graduates  from  Columbia,  from  the  day 
when  De  Witt  Clinton  was  governor  of  the  State  to  the  day 
when  Mr.  Abram  S.  Hewitt  was  mayor  of  New  York  and 
Mr.  Setli  Low  mayor  of  Brooklyn. 

This,  indeed,  has  been  the  position  of  Columbia  in  the 
past,  and  this  prescribes  its  work  in  the  future.  It  has  been 
chiefly  a  college  for  New-Yorkers ;  while  it  will  continue 
to  be  a  college  appealing  especially  to  the  three  or  four  mill- 
ion people  now  congregated  near  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson 
River,  and  while  it  will  strive  always  in  the  future  to  do  its 
duty  to  the  city  as  in  the  past,  Columbia  is  now  also  a  uni- 
versity, situated  in  the  metropolis  and  drawing  to  itself  de- 
voted teachers  and  ardent  students,  not  from  the  city  alone, 
but  from  the  whole  couutrv.     And  it  is  the  belief  of  those 


■202  FOUR  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES 

who  know  it  best  and  love  it  best,  that  Columbia  has  be- 
come a  university  without  in  any  v?a.y  impairing  its  power 
to  accomplish  what  Curtis  declared  to  be  the  prime  duty 
of  the  American  college  —  that  it  shall  equip  and  thor- 
oughly train  American  citizens.  "  When  I  say  that  the 
American  college  is  now  required  to  train  American  citi- 
zens," Curtis  continued,  "  I  do  not  mean  that  it  is  to  abdi- 
cate its  highest  possible  function,  which  is  not  to  impart 
knowledge — not  to  impart  knowledge,  gentlemen  —  but 
to  stimulate  that  intellectual  and  moral  power  of  which 
I  speak.  It  is  a  poor  education,  believe  me,  that  gives  us 
accuracy  in  grammar  instead  of  a  love  of  letters;  that  leaves 
us  masters  of  the  integral  calculus  and  slaves  of  sordid  spirit 
and  mean  ambition.  When  I  say  that  it  is  to  train  Ameri- 
cans, I  mean  not  only  that  it  is  to  be  a  gnome  of  the  earth, 
but  also  a  good  genius  of  the  higher  sphere.  With  one 
hand  it  shall  lead  the  .young  American  to  the  secrets  of  ma- 
terial skill;  it  shall  equip  him  to  enter  into  the  fullest  trade 
with  all  the  world ;  but  with  the  other  it  shall  lead  him  to 
lofty  thought  and  to  commerce  with  the  skies.  The  college 
shall  teach  him  the  secret  and  methods  of  material  success ; 
but,  above  it  all,  it  shall  admonish  him  that  man  does  not 
live  on  bread  alone,  and  that  the  things  which  are  eternal 
are  unseen." 


THE    END 


if0 


f- 


